Soldier
by LilaKatze
Summary: Harry was born to be a fighter-it was his destiny. But destiny never said what time period he had to become one. Harry Potter X Halo.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Halo. Some parts from Halo: The Fall of Reach

Soldier

by

LilaKatze

,.,.,.,

**0614 Hours, August 28, 1987 (Military Calendar) / Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, planet Earth**

Harry sat very still inside his cupboard, doing his best not to jostle his broken arm. Bruises littered his small body, some old and yellow, others swollen and fresh. His head swam with the pain of it all, and he bit his lip to keep from crying.

_I shouldn't have done it, _he thought to himself. _But I was just so hungry! It was in the rubbish bin, they wouldn't have missed it. _He supposed it was just his rotten luck that Uncle Vernon had caught him eating the stale piece of bread. His uncle had flown into a rage, slapping him and screaming that he was an ungrateful freak and that he didn't even deserve trash. He had thrown Harry into his cupboard with enough force to break his arm.

Tears threatened to spill again, and angrily Harry blinked them away. The young boy already knew crying wouldn't help anything. _Why did my parents have to die? _he asked himself. _Why did they leave me with the Dursleys?_

Harry heard the upstairs floorboards creaking. Heavy, thumping footsteps shook his little cupboard as Uncle Vernon went down the stairs. His heart began to race. His uncle would definitely make him do extra chores today, and with his broken arm, he knew he couldn't finish them. If he didn't finish his chores, his uncle would hurt him again. He began to panic.

_I wish I could be somewhere else, _he thought desperately. _Somewhere safe...somewhere where I can belong and get strong so that no one can hurt me anymore. Somewhere far away so that the Dursleys can never find me. _He focused his entire mind on the thought, wishing with everything he had, and with a nearly silent _pop_, he was gone.

,.,.,.,

**0615 Hours, August 28, 2517 (Military Calendar) /Slipstream Space-unknown coordinates**

There are not a lot of things that startle Dr. Halsey. After all, she worked with spooks everyday. But when a child appeared out of _thin air_ inside _her_ ship while it was in the middle of a _Slipspace jump_, she was considerably startled. The lieutenant beside her was much less composed.

"Holy Mother of Christ!" he yelled uncharacteristically, stumbling backwards.

"Toran, what on earth just happened?" asked Halsey, both eyes fixed on the boy. He was unconscious and clearly injured, one arm at a strange angle and a large, hand-shaped bruise across one side of his face.

"I am not sure, Dr. Halsey. I do not have any explanation as to how that human child appeared inside of this ship. All systems are normal."

Dr. Halsey furrowed her brow. Well, first things first.

"Prepare the medical bay to receive the child."

"Yes, Dr. Halsey."

"Lieutenant Keyes, please assist me in carrying the boy to the medical bay. Take care not to further injure that arm."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, by now much more collected. He gently picked the child up and followed Dr. Halsey to the aforementioned bay.

Dr. Halsey puzzled over the sudden appearance of the boy. Teleportation technology was no where near the level necessary to get a person across a planet, let alone on a ship in Slipspace. Especially when the only people aware of her current location were the people _on_ the ship and a few ONI spooks. Furthermore, even the technology used now relied on special markers to guide the teleportation. There where none on her ship.

She briefly considered the Insurrectionists, but shook her head. If they had that kind of technology, then they had already won.

A strange, Slipspace accident? If so, the probability of the boy somehow ending up on her ship was unthinkably low. There had to be some kind of explanation for this...perhaps the boy's story would shed some light on the matter.

They soon reached the medical bay, and within minutes Dr. Halsey had him connected to a series of diagnostic machines.

"Severe malnutrition, dehydration, rachitis, scurvy, bruises on face, neck, shoulders, arms, and torso, broken arm, exhaustion, previously broken leg and ribs, inner ear infection, damage to eyes due to strain, this list goes on and on..." Dr. Halsey narrowed her eyes. "Clearly this child has been abused and neglected. Toran, please prepare a solution of nanobots, antibiotics, and nutrients to repair the damage this child has sustained."

"Understood—"

"And please prepare a small, nutritious meal for when he wakes."

"Yes, Doctor."

While a nearby machine buzzed, the doctor took a syringe from a nearby cabinet and carefully filled it with liquid from an unmarked vial. She then cleaned a small portion of the boy's arm and injected the liquid into him. His breathing soon slowed as he entered a very deep sleep. She then inspected his arm through an X-Ray screen and set it.

The machine beeped and ejected a bag of cloudy liquid, as for an IV drip, and the scientist expertly set up the drip up and inserted the needle into a vein in the child's arm.

"He should wake in approximately twelve hours, enough time for the nanobots to have nearly finished their work. In the mean time, Lieutenant, please set up a secure connection to the ONI headquarters."

"Yes, ma'am," said Keyes, leaving for the bridge. Dr. Halsey stayed behind, watching the boy. This time she took in the rest of his appearance. He was very small and skinny, clearly from undernourishment, with very pale skin and messy black hair. A jagged scar marred his forehead.

Out of curiosity, mostly, she took a sample of his blood and scanned it for the genetic markers she had flagged for the SPARTAN II program. The scan read positive on all counts. She raised an eyebrow.

This was getting stranger by the second.

,.,.,.,

**1830 Hours, August 28, 2517 (Military Calendar) /Slipstream Space-unknown coordinates**

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes, blinking as the harsh fluorescent lights momentarily blinded him. He felt strange; nothing felt painful, stiff, or numb, and he was lying on something extremely comfortable. Hope sparked in his heart. Had his wish been granted?

He looked around. Everything in the room looked clean and bright, and machines were everywhere. The walls and ceilings were made of metal, as was the door.

"Hello," said a voice. He faced the sound. A woman with long, dark hair and piercing blue eyes was standing next to his bed. "My name is Dr. Catherine Halsey. What's yours?"

"I'm Harry Potter," he replied shakily. "Where am I?"

"That's not important right now. Can you tell me where you're from?"

"Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey," he said automatically. His school had made him memorize the information.

Dr. Halsey furrowed her brow. "What planet is that on?"

"Earth," Harry replied, puzzled. Dr. Halsey frowned. If he was from Earth, how did he get here?

"What is the last thing you can remember?"

Harry though back. "I was in my cupboard. . .and Uncle Vernon was coming down the stairs."

"Your cupboard?"

"Freaks like me don't get real bedrooms," Harry said matter-of-factly. Dr. Halsey felt a spark of anger.

"I'm sure you're are not a freak, Harry."

"Yes I am. Uncle Vernon says so all the time, and Aunt Petunia too."

The spark of anger intensified. "Well, they are wrong. I'm a scientist, and I say that you are not a freak."

Harry's face lit up. "You're a scientist? They talked about those in school. They said scientist do really important stuff, like finding the cure for cancer. Are you trying to find the cure for cancer?"

Dr. Halsey eyed him strangely. The cure for cancer had been found four hundred years earlier, and was now nearly unheard of. Was it possible that. . . ?

"No Harry. I'm working to stop a war."

"Wow. . ." he said, awed. "We were learning about a war in school too."

"Which war?" asked Dr. Halsey.

"I think it was called. . .Word War Two."

World War II, she thought, her suspicion strengthened. That war was so long ago that she doubted it was taught in any elementary school.

"When's your birthday, Harry?"

"July 31st. I'm seven years old."

"What year were you born in?" she tried again.

"1980," he replied confidently. Her eyes widened.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep! 'Cause I heard on the telly yesterday that it is August 27, 1987, and 1987 minus seven is 1980!"

"I see. . ." she replied. "Toran, please locate Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, Earth for me."

"Searching. . .subject no longer exists, Dr. Halsey." In the background, Harry looked around for the disembodied voice.

"Explain."

"Subject destroyed in the 21st century during a set of mysterious bombings."

"Who lived there at the time?"

"One Vernon Dursley with his wife, Petunia, and son, Dudley."

Harry felt nervous. Were they going to send him back?

"More on the bombings," commanded Dr. Halsey.

"A series of unexplained bombings targeting several seemingly random houses across a large region of Europe. The perpetrator or perpetrators were never found."

"Search for Harry Potter in that area and time period."

"Three records match: One, hospital stay for broken leg. Two, record in local primary school. States full name as Harry James Potter. Three, newspaper article on his disappearance in the summer of 1987. 96% likely to be the same person in all three matches."

"Is there any indication as to his physical appearance?"

"Yes. Both hospital record and school record state that the subject is a Caucasian male with black hair and green eyes. Hospital states age as five. School record states six. They are a year and a half apart."

"There is no birth certificate?"

"None found, Dr. Halsey."

"Very well. Thank you, Toran."

"You're welcome, Dr. Halsey."

Dr. Halsey sighed and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. This was one hell of a mess.

,.,.,.,

**1400 Hours, September 4, 2517 (Military Calendar)/Slipstream Space-unknown coordinates**

Harry was sure that it had been the best week of his life. Dr. Halsey had explained that he had somehow traveled through time—apparently the people she worked for thought he had magic. Magic! It was unbelievable. She told him that he was on a spaceship—a real spaceship!—and that he was going to be part of a special program to become a super-soldier. Then he got to stand by a window and saw a lot of stars going by really fast.

He wasn't hungry anymore. Dr. Halsey said that not letting children eat food was wrong and illegal and gave him three meals everyday and some vitamin pills. She made him do exercise, too. It was more exercise than he had ever done before, and she made him do more everyday. He didn't mind, though. It wasn't as bad as all the chores he had to do before.

Best of all, Dr. Halsey told him he never had to go back to the Dursleys. Ever!

Now they were going to go into special freezer things that Dr. Halsey called Cryogenic tanks to sleep for a long time so that they could go to another planet. He was going to go to another planet! He was so excited.

He knew his wish had come true.

,.,.,.,

**0530 Hours, September 24, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

"Wake up, boot!"

Harry started, sitting straight up. He looked around, seeing the startled faces of other children. Then he remembered.

It was the first day of training.

"I am Chief Petty Officer Mendez," shouted one man. He was tall and stiff postured, with closely cut dark hair with some gray at the temples. "The rest of these men are your instructors. You will do exactly as we tell you at all times." Mendez pointed to one direction and said, "Showers are aft. You will all wash and then return here to dress." He opened one boy's trunk and showed them a set of grey sweats. "No slacking. On the double!"

Harry ran to the showers. He hesitated a moment before undressing—everyone could see him!—but on look at the instructor's baton and he stripped in a flash. The shower was quick, and cold, but it was far better than the showers he had to take at the Dursleys. He shuddered, remembering the stinging soap and icy spray.

He ran back to his bed and opened his trunk, hurriedly dressing. He noticed the name on his shirt said HARRY-014

"Outside, trainees," Mendez annouced. "Triple time. . ._march_!"

Harry hastened to obey the commanding man, marching out with the others. It was very early, but Harry was used to that, too. Mendez told them to get into rows, and they did.

Harry lost count of how much they exercised—it was more than he had to do on the ship, more than he thought was possible. At the end, he wanted very much to cry, but held the tears in. He was going to be a soldier. He couldn't cry.

The children around him looked to be just as bad off as he. Everyone's clothes were soaked with sweat, and he saw more than one person had thrown up. They rested in silence, and Harry gently massaged his aching limbs.

Then they began to run. Harry was used to running—after all, he was always being chased by Dudley and his gang. But Dudley got tired a lot earlier that Chief Petty Officer Mendez. Harry wondered if the man was a robot.

Harry forced to go a little bit farther. He was hungry and his throat felt like sandpaper, but he forced himself to ignore that and put everything into keeping up. Finally, the run ended in front of a huge building led to by a stairway. A lady dressed in white beckoned to them. She reminded him of a picture of a statue he had once seen—a goddess, he remembered. Little lights zoomed around her head. For a moment, he though she was actually a goddess, or perhaps magical like him, but then he remembered Toran and realized she was an AI. She introduced herself as Déjà, and told them she was their teacher. He climbed the steps and went inside. He found himself a spot to sit and devoured the crackers on his tray, then gulped down the milk.

Harry looked around. The room was large, and filled with his fellow trainees. Then the lesson began, and he was entranced.

During the lesson, he noticed the boy to his right was stealing another girl's crackers. He was filled with indignation. He was stealing, and wasn't even getting caught! The boy caught him looking. He brought a finger to his lips and handed him a cracker. Harry then shrugged. He understood hunger. Then he swiped the boy to his left's crackers and nodded to the first boy. He smiled.

"I'm John," he whispered.

"I'm Harry."

"Friends?"

"Sure."

,.,.,.,

**0800 Hours, August 25, 2521 (Military Calendar) /Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

Harry nervously knocked on Chief Petty Officer Mendez's office door. He had been called there for some unknown reason. As far as he knew, only John had been in Mendez's office. That was when he was promoted to Squad Leader. Harry wondered what was in store for him.

"Come in, Number Oh-One-Four."

Harry stepped inside and saluted the man.

"At ease."

He relaxed himself minutely, and took in the surroundings. It was a cozy room, with dark wood paneling and soft, warm lights. The smell of cigar smoke enveloped him. Mendez sat behind his desk, and Dr. Halsey stood behind him.

"Hello, Harry," she said,

Harry saluted reflexively. "Hello, Dr. Halsey."

"Do you know why you are here today, trainee?" asked Mendez.

"No, sir, I am not aware as to why I have been called here."

"You are doubtless aware of your status as a Wizard. We have witnessed several instances of your abilities throughout the four years you have been here: you stopped twelve stun rounds in mid-air during a simulation, caused and exploding mine to disappear and reappear a mile away, caused an instructor's hair to grow and turn bright green, I could go on, but I'm sure you get the picture. ONI tells me that this is accidental magic, stuff that children do before they gain control of themselves." Harry flushed. "They decided that, in order for you to get a proper magical education, you would have to go back to your time: 1991. Apparently, the current magical world is lacking in knowledge. However, with a few of their magical contact's help, they managed to construct a time machine—one that will only work with you, since you have already time traveled." Mendez stopped and nodded to Halsey to take over. She took something out of her pocket and laid it on the desk.

"This device will implant a tiny crystal under your skin. The crystal is a complicated transporting device, what my magical colleges call a portkey. It will take you to your natural timeline. When you say a certain word, it will transport you into the past. A different word will transport you into the future. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied.

"Good. Please hold out your hand." She took the device and implanted the crystal in his palm. She then took something out of her lab coat.

"Please take this datapad. Normal electronic equipment will not work near large magical settlements, but this particular datapad will instead take magic from you or its surrounds as a power supply. On it are your instructions. Your mission is to gather data for ONI and get to as much training as you can in magic, especially if it can be used to fight or defend." She passed a trunk from behind Mendez's desk to him. "This holds some of the materials you will need. Others you will have to purchase." Dr. Halsey held his bright green eyes with her own piercing blue ones. "I know this is sudden, but I also know that you can handle this. The word to go to the past is combobulate. To come back is discombobulate."

Mendez grunted and passed him pistol. It was small, but fit his palm perfectly when he held it. "You are going to be in unfamiliar territory, trainee. You should be armed. There's ammo in the trunk. Do you have your knife with you?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" Mendez nodded approvingly. "Take care not to let your hair grow to long. I don't want you looking like a civilian." Harry nodded.

"Are you ready?" Dr. Halsey asked.

"I'm leaving right now?" Dr. Halsey nodded, eyes apologetic. "May I ask one question?"

"Shoot."

"Why com—why those words?"

"How often are you going to accidentally use them in a sentence?" she asked, smiling. Harry briefly smiled back.

"Alright then, ma'am. Goodbye." He took one last look around. "Combobulate." And he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Halo.

Soldier

by

LilaKatze

,.,.,.,

**0810 Hours, August 25, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, planet Earth**

It was dark and cramped, wherever he was. Coats hung in front of his face and a pair of boots dug into his back. His eyes adjusted, and he realized where he was.

It was the cupboard.

Claustrophobia hit him hard, sending adrenaline racing through his system. He took several deep breaths, mentally distancing himself from his location. He listened for sounds.

The telly was on in the kitchen. That was good. It meant no one was in the hallway, and he had a clean path to the door. He tested the doorknob. It was unlocked. He eased the door open, glanced around, and stealthily made his way to the front door. Sighing in relief, he went outside, glad to be out of the hellhole he once had to call home.

There was a playground not far from the area. He made his way to it, and casually sat on a swing, taking out his datapad. He turned it on.

-INSTRUCTIONS-

-EXERCISES-

-LESSONS-

He tapped "INSTRUCTIONS" and began to read.

,.,.,.,

**1400 Hours, August 25, 1991 (Military Calendar) /The Leaky Cauldron, Wizard space, London, planet Earth**

As soon as he walked into the pub, Harry wrinkled his nose. The place was shadowy, dirty, and stank of liquor and pub fare. He glanced at one patron's plate and winced. It was raw liver. Hurriedly, he made his way to the "gateway" his datapad had mentioned. It was a plain brick wall. Luckily for him, a witch was about to go through. He memorized the bricks she tapped and followed her through.

His first impression of Diagon Alley was that it was _really_ old-fashioned. Cobblestones lined the street. Shopkeepers and shoppers argued over prices, and the shops looked like they belonged in the 18th century. Then he noticed a stall next to him was selling miniature models of what seemed to be flying broomsticks. A man in front of him was levitating his shopping bags beside him. The people in the streets were wearing robes and pointed hats. A dog with a forked tail nudged a pile of trash, looking for food.

It was one hell of a culture shock.

He mentally shook himself, remembering why he was here. With purposeful steps, he made his way down the street to "Gringotts Bank". His datapad claimed that it was run by Goblins.

There it was; a majestic, white marble building at least five times the size of surrounding shops. A set of bronze double doors guarded by a very short man gleamed imposingly in the sun. As he got closer, he realized the "short man" was not a man at all, but a goblin. He stared, fascinated, until the goblin glared at him. He reached the doors and noticed words engraved into the bronze.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed__  
__Of what awaits the sin of greed,__  
__For those who take, but do not earn,__  
__Must pay most dearly in their turn.__  
__So if you seek beneath our floors__  
__A treasure that was never yours,__  
__Thief, you have been warned, beware__  
__Of finding more than treasure there._

_Interesting,___Harry thought before pushing the doors open. He stepped inside into an enormous marble hall bustling with people. There was a row of at least a hundred goblin tellers, and behind them, door upon door leading to who knows were. He stepped up to one of the tellers, clearing his throat to get its attention.

"My name is Harry Potter. I was told I have a vault here."

"Key?" it asked."

"I don't—"

It pulled an obsidian bowl engraved with runes and a small dagger from a drawer in its desk and set it in front of him.

"If you do have a vault, it will summon the key. If not. . ." The goblin grinned nastily. "Don't cut too deep. A drop of blood will suffice."

Glancing skeptically at the dagger, Harry pulled his combat knife from the sheath on his leg. The goblin sneered as he pricked his finger, sheathed the knife, and let a drop of blood fall into the bowl. It sizzled and glowed gold, forming two keys. One was small and golden, and the other was large, intricate, with an unfamiliar crest stamped into its dull silver metal.

"It appears, Mr. Potter, that you own two vaults, one of which is a trust vault and another which is a family vault. The latter is not available to you until you are seventeen years of age, as indicated by its dull coloration. Please take your keys."

Harry scooped the keys out of the bowl. To his surprise, the silver key shifted into a small silver ring. Shrugging, he slipped it onto a finger. The gold key he placed in his pocket.

"Griphook! Take Mr. Potter here down to his vault." He spoke something briefly in another language and the goblin nodded.

"Follow me," said Griphook, leading him to one of the many doors in the hall. The door led to a dark tunnel and a cart that sat on a set of rails. He looked at the contraption warily but stepped inside. Before he knew it, he was zooming down a steep slope. What looked like vault doors blurred around him. He saw flashes of other paths and even thought he saw a flicker of fire, but the cart was going so fast he couldn't make anything out.

The cart went deeper into the maze of tunnels, finally stopping at a vault door. The two of them stepped out, and Harry opened the vault. Inside, a mountain of gold glittered in the light of Griphook's lamp.

Griphook handed him a small leather bag. "Compliments of Gringotts bank," he said, "spelled to be light weight and hold more than it normally would."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the bag. He filled it with the gold (galleons, the datapad said), marveling at how much it held. It was one hell of a useful bag.

The return trip was as quick and uneventful as the first, and he left the bank content with his funding.

"Now to buy a wand. . ." Harry whispered, excited. He scanned the rows shops until he saw one that said Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. He made his way towards it and eagerly stepped inside. Every wall was filled with boxes the presumably contained wands. He wondered which one would be his.

At first it seemed no one was there. Then, he heard the faintest sound behind him and spun around. A tall, skinny man with large, eerie grey eyes stood then, seemingly surprised the boy had caught him.

"Harry Potter, I presume. I remember your parents wands—"

"Who are you?" he asked, cutting the man off.

"Why, I am Ollivander, maker of wands. Shall we start?" The man produced a measuring tape and began to measure him. "Which is your wand hand, Mr. Potter?"

The Spartans were trained to be ambidextrous. "Either," he said. "How do you know my name?"

The old man tapped his forehead. "You have quite a famous scar, Mr. Potter. Either, eh? That's a good skill to have. Hmm. . ." He went of to his boxes, searching around. Harry noticed the tape measure was still measuring him. "Oak and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, springy?" He put the wand in the boy's left hand. "Give it a swish."

Harry barely moved before the wandmaker snatched it out of his hand. "No, no, hmm. Willow, unicorn hair, twelve and a quarter, very flexible." Again, the he barely touched the wand before it was taken away. The process continued for quite some time, until Harry began to feel impatient.

"Let's see here, perhaps. . .quite unusual, Holly, phoenix feather, eleven, supple." Harry held the wand and felt a slight warmth. He swished it, and a few gold sparks flew out. Ollivander appeared a bit disappointed. "Hmm, not quite, not quite, although if you wish, you may purchase it. Here, ah ha! Perhaps. . .Ash, dragon heartstring, thirteen and an eighth, strong but springy." This time, when Harry held it, a warm tingling rushed through his body. He swished it and a fountain of white-blue sparks flew from its end. "Oh ho! I believe we found your match. Yes, ash, a strong wood, a good wand to have in a fight. Although, I hope you will not have to use it in such a manner."

Harry examined the wand, pleased with its shape and color. "How much?"

"Eleven sickles. Although, if you would like to also purchase the Holly wand, I will sell them both for only a galleon."

"Alright," Harry said. He opened his money bag and withdrew a gold coin. Passing it to the shopkeeper, he took the two wands, and left without a second glance.

"Hmm. . ." Ollivander murmured, watching him go.

,.,.,.,

**1500 Hours, August 25, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Albus Dumbledore was not having a good day, or month for that matter. It had started when the Hogwarts letters were being sent out. The Automatic Quill managed to write the addresses of all of the students, barring one. Harry Potter. For weeks, it struggled to so much as right his name. Alarmed, he had gone to the Dursleys to investigate. To his dismay, they told him the child had been missing for years—years! And to make matters worse, every locating spell and ritual ended in failure—the locations were either not written down or hopelessly blurry. It was unlike any hiding spell he had ever encountered, and it worried him. At the very least, no spell ever claimed him dead—that would have been a disaster.

Dumbledore sighed and checked the letters yet again. Wait. The quill was moving. Excited, he watched it slowly scribble the location of the wizard child he so needed to find.

Mr. H. Potter

Room 11, The Leaky Cauldron

London

With a shout of triumph, he snatched up the letter and threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. He stepped inside.

"The Leaky Cauldron!"

,.,.,.,

**1502 Hours, August 25, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Room 11, The Leaky Cauldron, Wizard space, London, planet Earth**

* * *

There was a knock at Harry's door. He stopped his sit-ups and stared at it quizzically.

"Mr. Potter, you have a visitor."

Checking to make sure he had his wand and knife, he opened the door. Standing in his doorway was the oldest man he had ever seen. His beard and hair reached past his waist. His long nose was crooked, remnants from a long-ago fight. His face was wrinkled and liver-spotted, but his blue eyes were bright, staring from behind half-moon glasses. A wide smiled spread across his face.

"Good Evening, Mr. Potter. My name is Albus Dumbledore. May I come in?"

The datapad and told him to expect someone. He stepped aside and allowed Dumbledore entrance.

"I must say, it is very good to meet you at last, Mr. Potter. Here, I have something that belongs to you." He handed Harry the letter. Harry skimmed through its contents, hiding his glee. Here was the letter that the datapad said would have his supply list.

"You are the Headmaster?" he asked, looking up at he man.

"Yes, of course. Are you planning to attend Hogwarts? It is the very finest school of magic in Wizarding Britain."

"Yes, I do plan to attend, Headmaster. Is that all you have come to tell me, sir?"

Here the old man became serious. "No, I have something very important to discuss with you. Please sit down."

Harry sat on his bed, watching in awe as Dumbledore swished his wand and conjured a comfy-looking armchair.

"Now, Mr. Potter, although it seems you are aware of magic, what do you know of your unusual history?"

"History, sir? As far as I know, my name is Harry James Potter, that my parents are dead, and that my living relatives are child abusers."

What? thought Dumbledore. "Do you know the circumstances surrounding your parents death?"

Harry looked confused. "Circumstances? I believe the Dursleys once mentioned that they died in a car crash."

"No, Harry. You're parents were murdered by a Dark Lord who called himself Lord Voldemort. This same man tried to kill you—but somehow you survived. You see, he used a curse called the Avada Kedavra. It instantly kills anyone who it touches. You, however, lived, and the curse left you only with a scar upon your forehead."

So that's what Ollivander meant, thought Harry.

"The curse rebounded, destroying Voldemort's body. However, I believe his spirit is still out there, searching for a way to return. As a result, you, Harry—" Harry winced at the use of his first name. "—were hailed as a hero, The-Boy-Who-Lived. I then sent you to live with your relatives—"

"Wait, you sent me to live with the Dursleys?" Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, and I see now that that may have been a mistake. It has come to my attention, Harry, that you disappeared from their house four years ago. Can you tell me why?"

Harry glared at the man.

"When I left, I was seven years old, but physically looked to be five from malnutrition. I suffered from rickets, scurvy, anemia, dehydration. I was starving. I had a broken arm. Bruises covered twenty percent of my body. Everyday I was forced to work for those monsters, despite my ailments. That's why I left."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes dimmed. Tears formed at their corners.

"Oh, Harry, I apologize. It seems I have wronged you terribly. I can ask your forgiveness—I believed it was the safest place for you at the time, away from your fame and those who would kill you for your role in the destruction of Lord Voldemort."

"Please do not call me Harry," he replied coldly. "In time, perhaps I will forgive you."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Mr. Potter, I would like to know where it is that you stayed after you left the Dursleys."

Harry didn't want to tell him, but he had his orders. According to his datapad, this man was one of the most important people of the time. Tell the Headmaster, and only the Headmaster, about where you have been. Make sure he understands that you are, primarily, a soldier, and not his pawn.

Harry began to explain.

,.,.,.,

**1100 Hours, September 1, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Hogwart Express, Platform 9 ¾, Wizard space, London, planet Earth.**

Harry arranged himself on the train compartment seat, making sure his knife, pistol, and wands were all in their sheaths and in easy reach. He propped up a book titled _Attack and Defense: Volume II, Intermediate_ and began to read.

His compartment door slid open. He looked up, one hand on his hidden pistol.

"Hi," said the intruder. He relaxed. It was a girl around his age, with wild, bushy hair and large front teeth. "I'm Hermione Granger. Can I sit here?"

Harry shrugged and gestured to the seat across from him. "Harry Potter," he said as a way of introduction.

"Really?" She glanced at his scar, unhidden by his military haircut. "I read all about you. You're in—"

__"_The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts____, __Important Events of the Twentieth Century____, __Bedtime Stories for Young Witches and Wizards____, _yes, I know."

She gaped at him. "You're in a book of bedtime stories?"

"Yeah, they make me out like some kind of super-hero. They all but say the sun shines from my—"

The compartment door slammed open. A blond boy and two thugs stood in the doorway. Harry again placed his hand on his pistol. "I heard Harry Potter was going to be on this train. Who are you?" The last question was directed towards Harry.

"Harry Potter himself. If you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of a conver—"

"You're Harry Potter?" He, like Hermione, glanced at his scar. "I'm Draco Malfoy. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." He turned to Hermione. "And who are you?"

"Hermione Granger," she said, glancing nervously at his two shadows.

"Granger. . .I don't know that name, so that means your a mudblood." He sneered.

Harry didn't know what a mudblood was, but he knew it couldn't be good.

"I don't appreciate you insulting my friend."

Malfoy looked aghast. "You're friends with her? Why?" He grimaced. "Clearly you don't know what kind of friends are appropriate for a person of your status. I can help you there." He smirked and held out his hand.

"I think I know perfectly well who I want as my friends," Harry said coolly, ignoring the outstretched hand. "Learn some manners before you talk to me again."

Malfoy flushed a blotchy red and stalked off, his thugs following after. One cracked his knuckles menacingly at Harry. Harry responded by flexing his bicep. It swelled impressively, and the boy fled.

"You didn't have to do that," Hermione said.

"Yes I did. That guy's a bastard. He's lucky I didn't break his nose."

Hermione blushed. "Well, thank you."

She pulled a book out of her trunk, closed it, then attempted to put it in the overhead compartment. It almost fell down on her. Harry laughed and caught it before it hit the grown, then easily stowed it away.

"Thanks," she mumbled, blushing harder. She sat down and began to read.

"What are you reading?" Harry asked, curious.

__"_Hogwarts: A History____._ It's really interesting; I already read it twice."

__Harry pulled a book out of his bag.

"Here, try this.___ It's __The Making of The Ministry_ by Boromus Bownding."

Hermione's face brightened. "I saw that at the store, but my parents limited me to twelve extra books and I couldn't get it." He passed it to her and she eagerly began to read. Harry smiled and went back to his own book.

,.,.,.,

**1800 Hours, September 1, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Hogwarts Express, near Hogsmeade Station, Wizard space, planet Earth.**

"I think we're slowing down," Harry said.

"Hmm?" Hermione replied, looking up from her book. She was almost done. "Oh! We changed into our robes on yet!"

Harry took down her luggage and they frantically took out their robes, slipping them on over their clothes.

"We leave our stuff here, I think." Hermione said.

"Alright. Let's go."

They made their way off the train and onto the platform. There were people milling about in every direction. Where were they supposed to go?

"Firs' Years, over here! Firs' Years!"

Harry looked towards the voice and gasped. He was the biggest man he had every seen, towering over everyone. He beckoned at the students, smiling under his bushy beard.

"He's enormous!" Hermione whispered, but obediently walked toward him. Harry followed, again putting his hand on his pistol.

He ushered them into tiny, unstable-looking boats. Harry carefully entered one and helped Hermione in, too. Two other boys joined them. They introduced themselves as Terry Boot and Ernie MacMillan.

"What house do you guys want to be in?" asked Terry. "I'm partial to Ravenclaw myself. Both my mum and dad were in Ravenclaw."

"My family has been in Hufflepuff for ages!" boasted Ernie. He showed them a black and yellow scarf. "My dad gave this to me!"

"I don't know," said Hermione. "Ravenclaw sounds nice, but Dumbledore was in Gryffindor."

Harry shrugged. "Ravenclaw is all about knowledge, right? That sounds good to me." It went along with his mission, too.

"I thought you'd be all about Gryffindor, being Harry Potter and all that," Terry said.

"Don't believe everything you hear," Harry replied.

"You'll get yer first glimpse o' Hogwarts up ahead," said the giant man. The children turned to look.

It was the most amazing building Harry had ever seen. A huge castle seemed to grow right out the ground, each window glowing brightly with candlelight.

"Wow. . ."

"It's beautiful!"

Harry agreed, but it didn't top the view of stars in deep space.

The boats landed in silence, and the eleven-year-olds carefully stepped onto the dock. The giant man knocked on a huge door. A severe-looking woman opened it and ushered them inside.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. . ."

Harry tuned her out and looked around. It was an antechamber of sorts, he saw, likely leading into the Great Hall, if the sounds from the other side of the door was any indication.

"I'm so excited!" Hermione whispered from next to him. She bounced on the balls of her feet.

All of a sudden, a bunch of white, transparent things floated through the wall, and a few people screamed.

"Ghosts!" Harry inspected them, fascinated. They seemed to be arguing about something, but he couldn't hear over the whispers.

"Hogwarts has over three-hundred ghosts in total," Hermione whispered. "But only a few are seen regularly. Each house has a ghost representative."

The ghosts floated away. The doors to the Great Hall opened.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." Hermione muttered. Harry took a few calming deep breaths. They got in a line, waiting for their names to be called.

While he waited, Harry looked around the Great Hall. It was amazing. The ceiling looked as though it opened up into the night. Candles flickered around the edges of the hall and four long tables. Each table was decorated with different colors—these were the houses, he realized. A fifth table spread perpendicularly to the others. Harry caught a glimpse of a long beard, and realized it was the head table. In the middle was a stool with an old, tattered hat. To his surprise, it began to sing.

"A singing hat?" he murmured. Well, stranger things were possible. The hat finished and the sorting began.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

Harry watched as the girl placed the hat on her head. Everything was silent, until the rip in the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The girl ran to her table, beaming.

Alright then. He understood what was going on. Patiently, he waited for the severe woman to call his name. He listened with interest as Hermione was called. The hat sat on her head for a long while before calling out, "RAVENCLAW!" Hermione smiled and glanced at him. He smiled back.

Finally, the woman called out, "Potter, Harry!"

There was a dead silence as he stepped up to the hat, then frenzied whispering.

_"Now, where shall I place you?"_

Harry jumped. _Whose there?_

_ "Why it's me, the Sorting Hat. Didn't you listen to my song? Well, hmm. . .from the future, are you? How interesting. No, don't worry, I won't tell. . .plenty of courage I see here, yes, and ambition. You want to be in Ravenclaw? Ah, I see. You seek knowledge. Certainly you have enough wit for Ravenclaw. Hmm, it seems your mind is set. Alright then, I have no choice but to send your to—_RAVENCLAW!"

Harry grinned triumphantly and set the hat down, making his way to the blue and bronze table and sitting down next to Hermione. The second stage of his mission was complete.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Halo. Damn. Some parts from HPatSS

Soldier

by

LilaKatze

,.,.,.,

**0400 Hours, September 2, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Ravenclaw dormitories, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry woke bright and early on the first day of classes. Well, actually, it was still quite dark out. Stretching, he yawned and got out of bed, rummaging through his trunk until he found his datapad. He turned it on and tapped "EXERCISES".

SEPTEMBER 2:

STRETCH THOROUGHLY

WARM UPS:

300 PUSH-UPS, FINGERTIPS ONLY

250 SPEED SIT-UPS

500 JUMPING JACKS

250 SQUATS

MOTION EXERCISES:

SPRINT FIFTEEN MILES

SPEED-WALK TEN MILES

BELLY CRAWL TWO MILES

SWIM FOUR MILES

EXPLORE FOREST TWO SQUARE MILES AND MAP

COMBAT EXERCISES:

MARTIAL ART KATAS: WHITE—BLACK

TARGET PRACTICE—GET CREATIVE

PRACTICE MAGIC IF POSSIBLE

Harry nodded and put on some sweats, grabbed a pen and sketchpad, then stealthily made his way outside.

,.,.,.,

**0700 Hours, September 2, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Ravenclaw dormitories, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry stepped out of the shower, refreshed from the cold water and the exercise. He dried himself off and walked back into his dorm room, passing his dorm mates. They gaped at his muscled arms, legs, chest and abs, hardly believing their eyes.

"Merlin, Potter, how the hell did you get that ripped?" asked Michael Corner. Harry shrugged.

"It's called exercise."

"Yeah, but, no one our age exercises enough to look like _that,_" Anthony Goldstein declared.

"I do," Harry said simply. "I got up at four today."

Corner, Goldstein, and Terry shook their heads as he walked passed, then went on to the showers.

Clearly, Harry Potter was insane.

Unknowing of his dorm mates' thoughts pertaining him, Harry quickly dressed and descended into the common room. A prefect was waiting for him.

"Here you go," he said, handing the boy a map. "It's not perfect, but you won't get lost. Timetables are handed out at breakfast. Get going, or you won't make it to class on time."

Harry gratefully took the map, following down to the Great Hall. As soon as he went through the doors, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. They were all staring at him, whispering. He double-checked his weapons to reassure himself and walked to the Ravenclaw table. Hermione was already there, and he sat down next to her.

"Good morning," he said, piling eggs onto his plate and devouring them.

"Morning," she replied, not taking her eyes of her book. Her plate was untouched. Harry frowned and gently wrestled the book from her grasp, pointing at the food.

"Not eating isn't healthy," he said to her, ignoring her furious glare. "I'll give this back when you eat some."

"I have to study!" she said desperately. Harry shook his head and pointed to the food again. Grumbling, she quickly chewed and swallowed the toast and bacon she served herself. Harry handed the book back.

Out the corner of his eye, Harry saw a short man approach them.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, you timetables," beamed the man, passing a set of papers to them. "I am Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. I am also your head of house. Please, if you have any questions, my door is always open." With a quirky little wave, he went off to another group of students.

"Finally!" Hermione breathed, going over the schedule. "Our first class is Double Potions with the Hufflepuffs—I can't wait! Then we have a rest period, then lunch, then Charms." She grinned at Harry, literally bouncing where she sat. "Come on, let's go get our cauldrons and then get good seats!" She dragged him out of his chair and pulled him towards the door.

"Alright, I'm coming," he said, smiled at her enthusiasm.

They made their way back to Ravenclaw Tower, grabbed their stuff, and went down into the maze of dark dungeons, almost getting lost. Finally they found their classroom. They were the first ones there, including the teacher. Hermione dragged him to a pair of seats in the front room.

Harry frowned. Where they were at, the door was not in sight, nor easily accessible. It went against his training. He decided to let the matter rest, and waited patiently as the rest of the class arrived. At last, the bell rung, and a tall, black-haired man strode in, slamming the doors shut behind him. Harry subconsciously sat straighter, as though at attention.

"I am Professor Severus Snape. You will address me as such, or as 'sir'" He glared at them all. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Beside him, Hermione, leaned forward in her seat, seemly eager to prove herself. Snape began to take roll. When he came to Harry's name, he sneered and looked up from his list.

"Ah yes. Harry Potter. Our new _celebrity._" He smirked. "Tell me, Potter, were I to add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, what would I get?"

Hermione's hand shot straight up. Harry thought for a second, then remembered something from his supplementary potions reading.

"Sir, you would get a powerful sleeping potion know as the Draught of Living Death, sir!" he answered. He inwardly winced. He'd answered him as though Snape were one of his trainers.

Snape grimaced. "Stop you incessant shouting, Potter. Where would you look if I were to tell you to find me a bezoar?"

"Besides the supply cupboard, sir, a bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "A point from Ravenclaw for your cheek. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry furrowed his brows. "There is none, sir. It also is known as aconite."

Snape was silent for a long moment, staring directly into Harry's eyes. Harry winced and looked away. He felt a headache coming on. Beside him, he saw Hermione disappointedly lowering her arm.

"I'm glad you found some of your precious time to crack open a book, Potter," Snape hissed. "You are correct on all three counts. A point back to Ravenclaw." He said the words as thought they pained him, then glanced at the rest of the class. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden flurry of parchment and scratching quills as the students hurried to obey. Snape flicked his wand at a blackboard at the front of the room. A piece of chalk wrote out a set of directions.

"This is a simple boil-cure. I expect it done by the end of class. No talking. Begin."

,.,.,.,

**1100 Hours, September 2, 1991 (Military Calendar) /near dungeons, Hogwarts Castle , Wizard space, planet Earth**

"I'm telling you, it wasn't fair of him to question you like that!"

"And _I'm_ telling _you_ to let it go. No harm was done!"

Hermione let out a mini-scream of frustration.

"You should have at least gotten points! And don't tell me that one point counts, because it didn't."

Harry sighed.

"Hermione, just drop it. It's not worth the trouble."

Hermione huffed but fell silent. They reached the Tower and answered the riddle, then stepped into the common room. They plopped onto a couch and relaxed. Without thinking, Harry idly took out his combat knife, balancing it on the tip of his finger.

"Harry, what is that?" Hermione said. With a start, Harry realized his mistake.

"Nothing," he said, embarrassed. He slipped the knife back into its sheath.

"A knife isn't nothing, Harry," she pressed.

"It's for self-defense," he said quickly. "Nothing more."

"Harry, you shouldn't have weapons in school!"

"Look, I'm not going to hurt anyone with it. Unless I'm in danger, of course."

"Still!"

"Please, Hermione. Leave it alone. It's not a danger to me, it's not a danger to you, it's not a danger to anyone else and nobody else needs to know about it."

"Harry. . ."

_Time for a different tactic, _Harry thought. He looked pleadingly at her. "It will be a secret—just between you and me, okay?"

Her resolve wavered. No one had ever trusted her like this before.

"Alright," she sighed. "But don't take it out again."

"Deal," he said, and smiled.

,.,.,.,

**0530 Hours, September 16, 1991 (Military Calendar) /The Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts Grounds, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry ducked and weaved through the trees of the forest, avoiding branches and roots. His feet made barely a sound and he ran, shedding beads of lake water with every step. He leaped into the air, catching a branch and pulling himself up. He began to climb in earnest, reaching the top in record time.

"Yes!" he whispered. "Twenty seconds off my last time." He admired the view before taking his sketchpad out of his bag and carefully mapping his surroundings. He finished the task and shimmied back down the tree. Again he began to run, then purposely fell to his stomach, inching across the ground like a giant centipede. He ignored the dirt accumulating on his clothes and the scratches and bumps from the many rocks and thorny plants. Suddenly he got back up and began a series of quick kicks and punches, battling an invisible enemy. He rested for a moment, catching his breath.

"Impressive," someone said, far too nearby. Harry pulled out his pistol and had it trained on the newcomer in a flash. Before he could see who it was, it was gone. "Settle down, young human foal. I am not here to harm you."

"Who's there?" Harry said, eyes darting around. How had he not heard him approach? "Show yourself!"

"Very well, then." The newcomer stepped out from between two trees that were nowhere near where Harry had his pistol pointed. He adjusted his aim, took in the intruder's appearance, and stifled a gasp.

It was a centaur, half man, half horse. His human half was darkly tanned and with black hair shot with streaks of grey. His face was intelligent and his black eyes glittered in the scant rays of sun that made their way to the forest floor. His horse half was entirely black and thickly muscled. Scars marred his entire body.

"Hello there, foal. Put down your weapon. I already said I'm not here to harm you."

Slowly, Harry lowered his firearm, then slid it back into its place. "Who are you?"

"I am Cáel, protector of the herd. _You_ are the child of two worlds. You are far from home, foal."

"What do you know?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Only what the stars have told me," he said cryptically. The centaur stepped closer. "My herd sent me to observe you, and to see whether you were a danger to the forest. I see that you are not." He narrowed his eyes. "Be warned, however. Do not kill for sport, or the forest will turn against you. Take head not to fall into the spider's web. Do not roam at night. And do not leave the castle grounds—outside of their protection, darker creatures lurk." He gave Harry one last look before turning back into the forest and galloping away.

Harry watched him go, still wondering how the centaur had managed to sneak up on him. Then, shaking his head, he went back to his daily exercises.

That night, he dreamed.

,.,.,.,

_**0700 Hours, March 12, 2518 (Military Calendar) /Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Wilderness Training Preserve, planet Reach**_

_Harry-014 crouched, completely silent, in the underbrush. As the smallest and lightest of his fellow trainees, he was the best scout. He peered through a screen of leaves at a group of five men, dressed in camouflage fatigues and armed with semi-automatic machine guns. Harry didn't know whether the bullets were live or stun rounds, and he didn't plan to find out. A red flag stood in the middle of them. _

_Carefully, he extracted himself from the brush, then faced his squad members. Holding up his hand, he made a thumbs-up and dipped it five times, pointing towards the clearing. The strike team, composed of Maria-062, Kirk-018, and John-117, nodded. _

_They snuck off, surrounding the clearing and getting into ideal positions. In their hands they held thick, broken-off branches; CPO Mendez neglected to give them any weapons for this round of capture of flag. All at once, they attacked, knocking the men out before they could even raise their weapons. Kelly-087, the designated flag holder, jumped out of a tree above them and grabbed it, raising a fist in victory._

_A snap of a twig directed their attention. Another man stumbled into the clearing, and, seeing the situation, immediately opened fire._

_Harry was closest. As though in slow motion, he saw the bullets come towards him. In a panic, he held out his arms as though to shield himself. To his surprise, the bullets stopped, midair, and fell to the ground. _

_So this was magic_, _he thought_, and woke up

,.,.,.,

**1745 Hours, October 31, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry and Hermione walked down the corridors to join the Halloween feast, chatting amicably. They had just gotten out of Transfiguration. On their way to the Great Hall, they passed a group of Ravenclaw girls.

"What a know-it-all," said Mandy Brocklehurst to Lisa Turpin, loud enough for Hermione to hear them.

"She so annoying," Lisa agreed, glancing at her. "And ugly."

"She's got buck teeth like a beaver," commented a second year.

"And her hair is a mess!"

Harry narrowed his eyes at the girls, and looked over at Hermione. She was biting her lip and looking at the ground. He could see tears welling in her eyes.

"She's such a teacher's pet. Oh, pick me Professor! Pick me! Let me kiss your arse, Professor! Let me lick your boots!"

The girls laughed raucously. With a sob, Hermione ran. Harry started to run after her, but thought better of it and turned to the other Ravenclaws.

"Shut the fuck up, you fugly bitches," he growled. They stared at him, shocked. "Hermione is ten times smarter and better looking then you pieces of crap. You're all just a bunch of jealous harpies." He gave them one last glare, flipped them off, then went after Hermione. She was startlingly fast, reminding him of Kelly, and she managed to dart into a girl's bathroom before he caught up with her.

"Hermione, what they said isn't true," he called out to her.

"Go 'way," she said, muffled through the door.

"You shouldn't listen to them. They're just jealous!"

"Leave me alone!" she sobbed, and Harry sighed. Sometimes girls were so confusing.

"I'm telling you, they're wrong, but fine, I'll go. I'll be at the feast," he said, resigned, turning away. He went down to the Great Hall and sat down, too angry at the insult to his friend to marvel at the Halloween decorations. He shot a glare down the table at the Ravenclaw girls, who pretended not to see him.

"Girl troubles?" asked Terry sympathetically.

"It's not like that. They made fun of Hermione."

"Well, she is a bit annoying," said Michael, stuffing his face with food. Harry shrugged.

"Doesn't give them the right to make fun of her."

"What did they say?" asked Anthony. Harry shook his head.

"I'd rather not repeat it." The boys nodded and went back to eating.

Suddenly, the Hall's double doors flew open. Professor Quirrel ran in, looking terrified. Harry put a hand on his pistol and took out his wand.

"Troll in the dungeons," wailed Professor Quirrel, running up to the head table. "Thought you ought to know." He collapsed.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He knew how people going unconscious fell. Quirrel's fall was wrong, too stiff and forced. He kept his eyes on the man as the students around him panicked.

Loud, popping sounds forced his gaze toward the Headmaster. "Silence! Prefects, please escort your houses to your dormitories. Professors, follow me to the dungeons." Chair scraped as the Prefects tried to assemble the students.

_Hermione,_ Harry thought. He had to make sure she was okay. As the Ravenclaws started towards the Tower, he quietly slipped away, running towards the girl's bathroom.

A putrid, revolting smell like sewers and B.O. filled his nose. He made a face and peeked around the corner.

There it was, twelve feet tall and ugly as fuck. In his hand he held a giant wooden club. Horrified, he watched as it wandered into the very bathroom Hermione was in. He rushed over, taking out his pistol and switching off the safety. He heard a scream.

"Hermione!" he yelled, entering the bathroom. He saw her, trapped under the sinks, clearly shaking with fright. The troll swiped at her, and there was a crash of broken porcelain. Hermione screamed again.

Harry aimed at the monster's egg-like head and fired, the noise of the gun ricocheting inside the confined space. The troll's brains splattered on the wall behind him as the semi-armor piercing explosive round did its work. It fell with a sick _thump_ and the bathroom was eerily still.

"Harry!" Hermione cried. She went over to a toilet and threw up, then ran over and embraced him, sobbing on his shoulder.

"Mr. Potter! Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall rushed in. Snape, Quirell, and Flitwick entered after her. She gasped as she saw what was left of the troll, then saw the smoking gun in Harry's hand. "Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of this?!"

Harry winced. Way to keep a low profile. Hermione opened to her mouth to speak, but Harry shook his head at her.

"Hermione wasn't at the feast, ma'am. I found her right after the troll did, and I did what I had to save her."

"That doesn't explain why you have a muggle weapon in the first place, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said.

"Indeed," said Snape, eying the boy.

Harry grit his teeth. "That information is classified."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Classified or not, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I'm going to have to confiscate your weapon until further notice."

Harry gaped at her. "You can't do that!"

"I assure you that I can, Mr. Potter. Please hand it over."

"But Professor, clearly he is right to be armed. After all, it help today, didn't it?" Hermione tried to argue.

"Nevertheless, Miss Granger, the weapon is a danger to himself and others. Hand it over, Mr. Potter."

"I am perfectly capable of wielding a pistol safely, Professor," Harry growled. Hell, he was licensed to use a rocket launcher.

"Give me the weapon, Mr. Potter." Fuming, Harry handed her the gun. "Please accompany me to the Headmaster's office. You too, Miss Granger."

"I insist I come along, Minerva. I am the boy's Head of House, after all."

"Very well, Filius." McGonagall turned to the other two teachers. "I trust you can take of this mess."

She strode out of the bathroom, deftly making her way to Dumbledore's office.

"Lemon Drops," she said, and the four of them stepped onto the spiral staircase. She knocked the griffin knocker twice.

"Do come in," Dumbledore called. They entered the room. Harry could feel Hermione quivering beside him.

There were already four chairs set up in front of Dumbledore's desk. He motioned for them to take a seat.

"Albus, I found these two in the girl's bathroom on the first floor. The troll was there with them, dead, with its head destroyed by a weapon Mr. Potter was holding. Although I am relieved that they are unharmed, it concerns me that Mr. Potter had such a destructive weapon at his disposal." McGonagall placed the gun on his desk. "When asked why he had a weapon in the first place, he replied that it was 'classified information'."

"I see," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. "Rest assured, Minerva, that I know exactly why Mr. Potter has a gun in his possession. I am afraid that I cannot tell you more than that."

"Albus, you cannot be serious."

"I am very serious, Minerva." He turned to Harry, eyes twinkling like mad. "I believe points are in order. After all, what you did was no mean feat. Twenty points to Ravenclaw for your timely actions."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"Are you quite alright, my dear?" Dumbledore asked Hermione. She nodded weakly. "Minerva, please take Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing and see that she gets a calming draught. She has been through quite an ordeal."

The Professor nodded stiffly. She beckoned to Hermione and wordlessly left the room.

"Filius, I'm sure you have other things you wish to attend to." Flitwick hesitated, looking at Harry. "I wish to converse with Mr. Potter privately, Filius." The Charms Master sighed and nodded, stepping out.

Dumbledore fixed his twinkling gaze on Harry. "Go ahead and take your pistol, Mr. Potter."

Relieved, Harry scooped the gun off the desk and quickly holstered it.

"Thank you, sir."

"I understand that you only did what was natural to you, Mr. Potter, but in the future, please take care not to draw unwanted attention to your status as a military trainee."

"Understood, sir."

Dumbledore gestured to a bowl of yellow candies. "Lemon drop?"

"No thank you."

Dumbledore shrugged and popped one into his mouth. "I'd like to ask you if you will be staying for the winter holidays."

Harry shook his head. "My orders are to return each break."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "In that case, I would like to give this to you now." He reached under his desk and produced a plain, brown package. "It is your father's invisibility cloak. He let me borrow it before his unfortunate death, and I never had a chance to return it. It is yours, now."

Harry took the package. "Thank you."

"Not at all, Mr. Potter, not at all. You may go back to your dormitory. I daresay Miss Granger would like a word with you."

Harry nodded and stood up, package in hand. He almost saluted, but checked the action and turned it into an awkward wave. He opened the door and stepped onto the staircase, then quickly made his way back to the Ravenclaw Tower. As Dumbledore predicted, Hermione was waiting for him.

"Harry James Potter," she said sternly, marching up to him. "Since when are you part of the muggle military?"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Halo. Damn.

Soldier

by

LilaKatze

,.,.,.,

**1830 Hours, October 31, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Ravenclaw Tower, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

"Harry James Potter," Hermione said sternly, marching up to him. "Since when are you part of the muggle military?"

Harry quickly looked around. To his relief, no one was in hearing distance, or even looking at them.

"That's really none of your business."

"But you admit you are—"

Harry held up a hand to silence her. _Shit,_ thought Harry. _I shouldn't have said anything_. "You know what, this isn't really the place for this kind of conversation." He dragged her to the boy's dormitories and ushered her up the stairs. They went into his dorm and he locked the door behind him. Taking out his wand, he cast a privacy charm he'd found in a book.

"I am not giving you a yes or no answer." He paced, thinking hard. He would have to mention this when he went back for winter break. "You cannot tell anyone about your suspicions."

"I just don't get it, though. You're only eleven, you can't be in the military!"

Harry sighed. "That's classified."

"And how come they apparently know you are a Wizard?"

"Classified."

"Is it because you're the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"I have nothing to say on this matter."

Hermione sighed.

"Can you at least teach me some self defense?"

"Classi—oh wait." Harry shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

,.,.,.,

**0430 Hours, November 1, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Near the lake, Hogwarts grounds, Wizard space, planet Earth**

"You—_gasp—_do this—_gasp_—every—_gasp_—day?" Hermione clutched her side and breathed raggedly. Harry nodded, unsympathetic. They had barely started. "Your a—_gasp_—monster—_gasp_."

Harry laughed. "You should see my commanding officer. Squats, now, Hermione. You do one-hundred."

"I—_gasp_—hate you—_gasp_—Harry."

Harry shook his head. "You asked for it."

Hermione just glared at him.

Speaking of his commanding officer, his hair was far too long—it was time to find a hair-cutting charm.

,.,.,.,

**1900 Hours, November 1, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Ravenclaw Dormitories, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry lay on his bed, the package Dumbledore had given him in front of him. Carefully, he opened it, extracting the silvery cloth within. It was smooth and flowing, and smelled faintly of musk. Harry extended it and wrapped it around himself, then made his way to the bathrooms.

He looked in the mirror and stared in shock. It was as though his head was floating, mid-air. He covered himself completely and watched, fascinated, as he completely disappeared.

_Wow,_ Harry thought. Dr. Halsey would most definitely appreciate this. Deciding he needed more information on the artifact, he took it off, put it in his book bag, and went down to the Library.

"Invisibility cloaks, invisibility cloaks, invisibility cloaks," he muttered, scanning the shelves marked "Magical Effects—Sight Spells". He smiled triumphantly as he came across a book titled, _Hiding in Plain Sight: Artifacts and Spells to Make You Invisible. _He flipped it open to the chapter on cloaks.

_The Invisibility Cloak, while rare and valuable, is not always the most efficient method of hiding oneself. A Cloak carries the risk of slipping and revealing the wearer. In conjunction with the Disillusionment Charm and a Silencing Spell, the Cloak can be very effective._

_There are three ways to make an Invisibility Cloak. The most common way is imbuing a piece of cloth with the Disillusionment Charm, which, while effective, is only practical when the wearer cannot perform the charm on themselves. Another way is to imbue cloth with the Bedazzlement Hex. While rendering the wearer unnoticeable, this type of Cloak can easily be misplaced and never seen again. The third and most rare Cloak is one made of the hair of a Demiguise. The capturing of the shy and reclusive Demiguise, which can turn invisible at will, is perhaps one of the most difficult tasks known to wizards. However, the cloaks made of their hair are the very best, showing no outline such as with the Disillusionment Charm and not tearing easily. These cloaks are extremely expensive._

Harry copied most of the passage into a notebook and turned to the page on Disillusionment Charms.

_The Disillusionment Charm is perhaps one of the most useful spells in hiding oneself. It is a difficult charm to learn, however, and is not perfect. The incantation is "_pelluceo". _The caster must quickly draw the rune for transparency _(shown right) _and tap their or another's head. A cold feeling indicates proper casting._

_The more power put into the spell, the more invisible a person becomes. Most of the time, however, there will be some kind of visible distortion that can reveal the presence of a Disillusioned person._

Harry closed the book and checked it out, excited at his find. _This_ was something truly useful he could take back to his fellow Spartans.

,.,.,.,

**1500 Hours, November 4, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Defense Classroom, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry glared at the bumbling Defense professor. He was completely useless, not teaching them anything. Moreover, Harry had realized how odd his stuttering was—it definitely wasn't real. And more and more often, he was able to pick out little cracks in the man's facade. What was he hiding?

The man met his gaze, and Harry winced, looking away. Every time he looked into the man's eyes, pain burst from his lightning-bolt scar.

He couldn't shake the feeling this man was somehow dangerous.

He resolved to keep a better watch on the man from then on.

,.,.,.,

**2300 Hours, November 27, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry roamed the darkened halls, under the protection of his invisibility cloak, just as he had for several weeks now. It was fascinating, really, how much happened during the night at Hogwarts. Many times he'd stumbled across a meeting of paintings or seen a ghost doing strange things, not realizing they were being watched. A few times he'd had to sneak by a professor or Filch, the caretaker, but it wasn't difficult. Once he had even walked in on two students snogging in a deserted corridor. Even more interesting were the many secret passageways and corridors he had found. They were literally everywhere, behind tapestries and portraits, through seemingly solid walls, dozens of spots throughout the castle.

He wandered about aimlessly, feeling homesick. The day was Thanksgiving, a holiday widely celebrated across UNSC-controlled space. It was one of the very few days the Spartan trainees actually had a break, and he knew they were having fun without him. He wondered what John was up to, and whether they had turkey or ham at dinner.

A bright shine from within an unused classroom caught his eye. Cautiously, he nudged the door open wider and slipped inside. Near the back wall was a magnificent, gold-framed mirror. It was as high as the classroom ceiling, and Harry realized the shine was the mirror reflecting the moon outside. By its light he read the words engraved in the frame: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry laughed. Although most would guess the inscription was some strange, ancient language, he immediately recognized the code, one of the very first he had learned. It wasn't a code at all, but rather what was called _mirror writing_, where the message was writing backwards. He laughed again at the irony.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," he read, stepping closer. Intrigued, he looked at his reflection. . .

. . .and found himself looking at himself, much older. He was tall and muscular, with an air of confidence around him, wearing a naval dress uniform. On his arm was the familiar insignia of Chief Petty Officer. His chest was decorated with ribbons and medals. In his right hand he held a rifle, and in his left, a wand.

Beside him was John, also older but looking fierce as ever, and similarly decorated. He, however, had the Master Chief Petty Officer insignia, and Harry smiled. He always felt John was a better leader. Behind them was the rest of the Spartan trainees, all seventy-three, battle-scarred but proud. Dr. Halsey and CPO Mendez stood to the side, looking on with pride. '_Good job,'_ he saw Dr. Halsey mouth.

Homesickness struck like a Thor's hammer, and longing ached fiercely within him. He touched the glass, desperately wanting to see his family—his true family—again. He saw Kelly and Sam arguing in the background, Fhajad and Kirk smirking at each other, Fred casually flipping his knife into the air, and he never felt so alone.

_Less than a month,_ he thought to himself, _I can wait that long. _He tore his eyes from the mirror and turned to leave. He glanced back one more time, and saw John smile and salute him. Harry saluted back and left the room.

Once he was back in bed, he smiled, remembering the year before's Thanksgiving.

,.,.,.,

_**2000, November 28, 2520 (Military Calendar) /Epsilon Eridani System, Spartan Barracks, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach.**_

"_Look what I got," bragged Kirk, holding up a large, glass bottle in his hand. It was unmarked, but was nearly full of amber liquid. "It's whiskey."_

_The others looked at him incredulously._

"_How the hell did you get whiskey here?" Fred asked, disbelief coloring his words._

"_I stole it from Mendez's office," Kirk claimed, puffing out his chest._

"_BS!" cried most of the occupants of the room, Harry included._

_Kirk grinned ruefully. "Alright, fine, I stole it from Instructor Corres's office, happy? It was easy."_

"_If he catches you, you're dead meat, trainee," James warned._

"_He won't catch me. Who wants to share the booze?" Kirk looked around at his fellow Spartans._

"_I'm not touching the stuff. Déjà told us 'bout how it kills the brain. You're an idiot, Kirk," Maria said, wrinkling her nose._

"_I'm game," said John. He looked at Harry. "You?"_

_Harry didn't really want to, but he shrugged. "Sure."_

"_Me too," Kelly declared. She held out her hand, and Kirk passed her the bottle. She took out the stopper and tipped it back. _

"_Ouch," she said, wincing. She passed it to John, who took a careful sip, and another._

"_This stuff is nasty," he said, grinning, and passed it to Harry._

_Harry brought the bottle to his lips, carefully letting the a small amount of the liquid pour into his mouth. He grimaced as it burned down his throat._

"_Ugh," he said. He held out the bottle to Sam, who eagerly drank, then coughed and sputtered as the liquor made its way down. The others laughed._

_The bottle made its way around the barrack, and soon everyone (barring the few who refused the drink) was acting strangely._

"_Whoa," Harry exclaimed, trying to stand up. Kelly laughed, grabbing his hands._

"_Let's dance, Harry," she said, and they stumbled about, trying to do the steps to a Waltz they learned from Déjà. Giggling insanely, they fell over onto Sam, who grumbled and pushed them off._

_Suddenly, the door slammed open._

"_What the hell is going on in here, trainees?" Mendez stood in the doorway of the barracks, eyes blazing. He took in the empty bottle and the disoriented Spartans in one glance and deduced what had happened. "Bunks, now!"_

"_Sir, yes, sir!" the Spartans yelled, everyone somewhat off-beat. They clumsily clambered into their beds._

"_You'll see first hand the consequences of alcohol intoxication tomorrow morning, recruits. Lights out!"_

_He flipped of the lights and left, leaving the children to wonder what he was going to do to them the morning to come._

_,.,.,.,_

_**0400 Hours, November 29, 2520 (Military Calendar) /Epsilon Eridani System, Spartan Barracks, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach.**_

_Harry woke to the shrill, painful sound of a whistle blown by someone with lungs of iron._

"_My head," he moaned, but his body knew better than to dawdle. He resisted the urge to cover his ringing ears as Mendez continued to blow the whistle. The noise drilled into his head, sending spikes of pain throughout his body._

"_Damn," he heard John mutter next to him as they raced to the showers._

"_Go, go, go, trainees! The faster you go, the less punishment you get!"_

_Harry dressed in record time and ran outside. As usual, the floodlights were on this early in the morning, and Harry groaned as the lights intensified his already throbbing headache. He felt sluggish and tired, and as they started their warm-ups, he felt nausea churn in his stomach. For the first time in years, he stopped to vomit on the ground, then, limbs trembling, continued with Mendez's torture. Just as the Chief Petty Officer intended, Harry resolved to never drink again._

,.,.,.,

**1200 Hours, December 11, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle, Wizards space, planet Earth**

"Well if it isn't Potty and Granger."

Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy's little attempts to antagonize him were becoming more and more juvenile.

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

"Language, Potter. Didn't your mother teach you any manners? Oh sorry, I forgot. You don't have one."

Harry simply ignored the boy. He seemed to take Harry's silence as defeat.

"Are your feelings hurt, Potty? Do you miss you mummy?"

Harry yawned and sipped his water. Draco colored, realizing he was being paid no heed to.

"Truly it's a pity you take after your father, Potter. Consorting with a mudblood."

Harry put his cup down.

"I already told you I don't appreciate you insulting my friend." He fixed a glare on the blonde-haired boy. Malfoy merely smirked.

"Don't listen to him, Harry," Hermione whispered, knowing already that he wouldn't take her advice.

"Tell me Potter, how do you stand to be around her? The smell of filth alone. . ." He made a face. "Maybe she does your school work for you?" His eyes glimmered wickedly. "Or maybe she lays on her back for you? In that case I commend you, putting her in her proper place—below a wizard."

Harry flushed with anger, and in the split second before he was on the ground, screaming in pain, Malfoy realized he had gone too far.

"Mr. Potter! What is the meaning of this!" cried McGonagall, rushing over. A crowd of students gathered around the scene.

"I would also like to know why you viciously attacked a fellow student, Potter." Snape shot and icy glare at Harry before kneeling next to Malfoy and inspecting him.

"Mr. Potter, this kind of conduct is not allowed at Hogwarts," Flitwick said sternly.

"He was spreading tasteless rumors, sir. I was compelled to act," Harry said.

"He has no visible injuries," said Snape. "What spell did you use, Potter, to cause this much pain?"

"I did not use a spell, sir. He'll be fine in a few minutes—it was just a minor pressure point." Harry made a face. "I barely touched him."

"He tried to kill me!" moaned Malfoy. "My father will hear about this!"

Harry shrugged. "I am willing to take any punishment given to me."

"Good to hear that, Mr. Potter, seeing as you will be serving detentions with Hagrid until holiday break, as well as losing Ravenclaw fifty points," McGonagall declared.

A ripple of discontented murmurs ran through the Ravenclaw table.

"Isn't that a little much?" said Flitwick lightly. "It's hardly fair to punish the house so severely for the actions of one individual."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Very well. Twenty points back to Ravenclaw, and detention until the end of the school term for you, Mr. Potter. You will report to Hagrid at six o'clock daily. His house is by the Forbidden Forest. Dress warmly."

Harry nodded, resisting the urge to salute. These people were not his commanding officers.

"Yes, ma'am."

Snape watched as Potter calmly exited the Great Hall, the Granger girl at his heels. In truth, the boy was nothing like he imagined James Potter's son to be. For one, he was intelligent and diligent, much more like Lily. Although he carried himself with confidence, it wasn't the arrogant swagger he had come to associate with the name Potter. And he was serious and obedient, almost always working; in Potions class, he had yet to make an error or be distracted.

Moreover, he even didn't look like his father. His hair was sheared short, not long and messy as Potter Sr.'s had been. His musculature would have made him seem brawny, but his height (half a foot taller than even the tallest of his classmates) made him seem more agile. For all his quidditch conditioning, James Potter never looked as fit as his son. Whatever fat that might have given his features a softer, more childish look was long gone, making him look older than he was. His facial structure hinted at his pureblood aristocratic bloodline, but he lacked the haughtiness that usually came with it. In fact, his most identifying features were his lightning-bolt scar, clearly visible on his forehead, and his bright green eyes—Lily's eyes. Again unlike his father, he wore no glasses.

Perhaps this boy was more like his childhood friend than his arrogant father. But even that didn't explain why he possessed a gun (an was able to use it), and how he was able to _physically_ cause as much pain as an Agony Hex without permanent damage. He was hiding something—and Snape wanted to know what it was.

,.,.,.,

**1800 Hours, December 11, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Hogwarts grounds, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry jogged to the little hut on the edge of the forest, inwardly grumbling. He shouldn't have lost his temper. His mission was too important. But damn it if he let that little bastard imply he was using Hermione for her brains or, more disturbingly, for sex.

He grimaced, remembering the first time Déjà had taught them about human reproduction. Afterwards, Dr. Halsey had given them a stern talking-to.

"_In the coming years, you all will no doubt notice changes in yourself. You'll start to see the opposite sex, or in some cases, the same sex, in a different way. While this normal and to be expected, it is also a distraction—a distraction that you, as Spartans, cannot succumb to. There will be a time for you to marry and have children, but first, you have a duty to fulfill._

"_I do not want there to be any romance causing distraction and drama among you. I do not want lover's spats causing your team to break down. I do not want sexual relations causing tension, anger, heartbreak, or pregnancies. I understand abstinence is a difficult thing to ask for, especially as you begin to mature, but I know that you are all intelligent enough to understand and strong-willed enough to obey."_

Harry knew she was right, and he knew that being distracted by hate was counter-active to his objective, too. He resolved to reign in his temper.

The hut by the forest was actually rather large, for a one-room cabin, and Harry knew its size reflected its owner. He warily knocked on the front door. Loud, booming barks sounded from within.

"Down, Fang, down!" he heard through the door, and soon after it creaked open. The enormous man beamed, one hand holding back his eagerly slobbering dog.

"Harry! Good ter see yeh. O' course, it's not so good yeh in detention, but I heard what yeh did ter the Malfoy boy, and let me tell yeh, if it were him, he deserved it."

Harry cringed at the use of his first name, but nodded amiably at the man who could pick him up and snap him into little pieces (although it seemed he was friendlier than he looked).

"No offense, sir, but I prefer Potter."

For a moment, the giant's smiled dimmed, but then he shrugged.

"I guess we're not 'xactly close, eh? Course, everyone calls me Hagrid. A'right then, Mr. Potter, today we're gonna try and find this plant 'fore the year ends. At the New Years, its potency drops and its dreadful useful for some potions. It likes the shade and damp places, but only grows in the light of the moon."

He held out a small, dried stem with a silver-blue color and small, brilliantly white flowers. A mane of silky, white, thread-like tendrils flowed from behind its blossoms. Harry carefully took it, noticing how cold it was to touch, and sniffed it. It smelled of mint and pine needles. He memorized the shape of the leaves and petals, then gave it back.

"We'll being goin' into the Ferbidden Forest, but you've got nothin' ter worry 'bout. Nothin'll touch yer while you be with me or Fang. We'll split up, and Fang here will go with yeh." The boarhound panted beside him.

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was allowed to let him into the forest with only a dog as company, but nodded. Hagrid smiled.

"Good. Now if yeh find the flower, send up some green sparks, I'll go an' find yeh. If yer in trouble, send up red sparks. Off we go, then!"

Into the forest they went, Fang excitedly sniffing anything he could find. Harry remembered his astromomy classes, looking at the sky and imagining the angles at which light would hit the forest floor. He moved more toward the lake, and found a clearing that, according to his mental calculations, should have reasonable moonlight exposure. He knelt among the underbrush and looked for the plant.

Almost fifteen minutes into searching, he smelled something familiar. Inhaling deeply, he followed the scent behind a nearby tree and gaped.

The little plant Hagrid had held out to him was evidently just a small branch, because the plant if front of him was nearly four feet high and very thick with pearly white flowers. It radiated cold that he could feel, even in the chilly December air, and little icicles hung from most of its tips.

Harry sent up green sparks. After a few minutes he heard soft footsteps approach, and Hagrid stepped out from the trees to his left.

"Merlin's beard, Har—Mr. Potter, this is one of the biggest Silvermoore plants I've seen in meh life!" He reached out to gently touch a leaf. "And its very potent, see? The colder, the better. I'll mark this spot fer Professor Snape—he'll want to harvest this beauty 'properly'. Ah, it's a shame, to know it'll just be cut up fer potions. . ." He stroked the flower's 'mane' of tendrils, collecting the small, tear-drop shaped pieces of ice that fell as he did so. "Here yeh are, Mr. Potter. Five Silvermoore seeds, best planted, as I told yeh, somewhere shady but moonlit, on a night with a full moon, early in the year so its strong as possible 'fore the end of the year."

"Thank you," Harry said, taking the seeds. He looked at them curiously. "What is the Silvermoore plant good for?"

Hagrid scratched his head. "I don't rightly know," he said. "I 'spect it has cooling properties, but that's a no-brainer. You'll have ter ask Professor Snape or Professor Sprout.

Harry nodded. "I'll do that."

,.,.,.,

**2000 Hours, December 11, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Ravenclaw dormitories, Ravenclaw Tower, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ had only a small entry on Silvermoore.

_The Silvermoore, named after Silvius Silvermoore, who discovered its uses in 1760, is a rare and delicate plant found anywhere that will freeze in the winter. It is rare because it must be located somewhere both dark in the daytime but bright at night. The melted icicles that grow on the plant can be used to heal burns, and in a tea, its metallic-blue leaves lower any fever. Its small, white flowers are the main ingredient in the Blood of Ice potion, which makes the drinker invulnerable to flames or heat, whether natural or magical, except that of Fiendfyre. _

_Consuming any part of the Silvermoore plant raw will cause a person to suffer from acute hypothermia. They should be warmed by consuming an equal amount of Ashwinder dust. Note: this will cause hallucinations. In the case that Ashwinder dust cannot be found or acquired, place the afflicted person in the hottest fire available._

,.,.,.,

**1500 Hours, December 13, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Hogwarts Greenhouses, Hogwarts grounds, Wizard space, planet Earth**

"Excuse me, ma'am," Harry said, just before class was about to begin. "I'd like to know a bit more about the uses of the Silvermoore plant.

Professor Sprout smiled benignly. "Oh yes, Hagrid told me about your amazing find. Well, as I'm sure you've already read, its known for being a key ingredient in the Blood of Ice potion. Its melt-water is also used in several flame-retarding wards in place of the oil used to draw runes, and, of course, to cure burns. The tea sooths fevers, and if you drink it before going outside on a hot day, you will stay cool. Raw, its the cure to the Blood Boiling Curse, but otherwise, don't eat it. Instead of an ice pack, you can use a branch of Silvermoore to numb your pains. If you soak something in its melt-water, it will never burn."

"Thank you, Professor."

These seeds were definitely going to ONI, Harry thought.

,.,.,.,

**1700 Hours, December 15, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, the Library, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

"What are you reading today, Harry?" Hermione asked, trying to peek at the cover of his book. He held it up so she could see.

"It's_ Wards of Protection: Ward Theory and Instructions_" Harry looked over at her book. "_Potion Improvement in Ten Easy Steps?_ He leapt up and went to the Potions section, quickly locating the book he was looking for. "This one really helped me." He handed her a book titled, _The Why to Magical Reactions: Your Comprehensive Potions Guide._

Hermione smiled. "Thanks."

Their daily visits to the library were calm and easygoing. Occasionally they would discuss something that interested them both, but usually the time was spent in silence, reading. Honestly, it was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Spartan everyday life, and Harry worried that he was getting out of shape. He mentally shrugged. Part of his mission was to gather data for ONI. He didn't have to like the studying, although it was fascinating, he just had to do it.

At first, Hermione had asked a lot of questions on why he was studying so much offensive and defensive magic—curses, hexes, shields, battle magic, explosive potions—but eventually she learned that Harry could be extremely tight-lipped. Nowadays, she often tried to trick him in to revealing something, but Harry was just as clever as she.

Harry had wondered about that, actually. She was very intelligent, for a non-Spartan. He wondered if she had the same kind of genetic markers that set the Spartan children apart. A month or so ago he stole a few of her hairs, in hope that Dr. Halsey could do a scan on them.

He went back to reading his book on wards. It was amazing what a few inscribed runes and Latin phrases could do—already he was thinking of ways the wards could be applied to spaceships, for example. If he could find a ward that repelled physical objects, the UNSC would be invincible.

"Harry, it's almost 6 o'clock. Shouldn't you be heading down to Hagrid's?"

Harry checked his watch and nodded. He checked out his book and made his way to the Hogwarts grounds.

,.,.,.,

**1800 Hours, December 23, 1991 (Military Calendar) /Sol System, Platform 9 ¾, Kings Cross Station, Wizard space, London, planet Earth**

Harry was nearly quivering with excitement, very ready to go back home. He already bid adieu to Hermione, and now searched for a concealed place for him to disappear.

There! Behind the support beam. He hid in its shadow, making sure he had everything.

Wands? Check. Pistol and Knife? Check. Trunk? Check. Moneybag filled with gold? Check. Bookbag filled with tomes he thought ONI would appreciate? Check.

He was ready.

"Discombobulate," he whispered. He saw a mane of bushy hair come towards him.

"Harry! I found you, finally! I was just going to—Harry?"

He was gone.

,.,.,.,

Thank you all for reading! Please review, there are a lot of you on the alert list, but hardly any of you are reviewing. Thank you to those who have already reviewed!

Please point out anything you think was a mistake, whether it is characterization or spelling and grammar. This recent break, as well as several snow days, have let me update semi-regularly, but school is starting up again, so don't expect me to be as regular.

-LilaKatze


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter or Halo, wtf am I doing here?

Soldier

by

LilaKatze

,.,.,.,

**1805 Hours, December 23, 2521 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

The moment Harry arrived, he snapped to attention, facing toward Mendez's desk. His surroundings were much like how he left them. Mendez was seated in almost the exact same position, and Dr. Halsey stood behind him.

"At ease, trainee," Mendez said, seemingly unfazed that someone had materialized inside his office.

"Welcome back, Harry," Dr. Halsey said. "Hold still one moment. I need to disinfect you."

She pointed a small, flashlight-like device towards him. The invisible rays of the sterilization gun did their work, eliminated potentially harmful bacteria and viruses. She finished sanitizing him and slipped the device back into her coat pocket.

"Report, Oh-One-Four," commanded Mendez.

"Mission was success, sir!" Harry handed him the data-pad. "I encountered one problem, sir!"

"Is it urgent?"

"No sir!"

"Then tell me later."

Dr. Halsey went over and patted Harry's shoulder.

"Unless you have anything more to say, Chief, I'll take him to ONI."

CPO Mendez shook his head. "Don't let them tear him apart."

Halsey smiled. "I'll be sure not to. For ONI, these are an okay bunch. Come with me, Harry."

Harry saluted Mendez and turned to Halsey, obediently following her through the training facility. She took him to a room attached to a laboratory Harry had never been in before. Inside, several men and women in plain lab coats were waiting around a large, circular table.

"Sit down," Dr. Halsey instructed him, gesturing towards one of two empty seats. She took the other. "Everyone, this is Oh-One-Four."

The ONI agents nodded. One woman with light brown skin and reddish-brown hair took charge.

"Hello, Oh-One-Four," she said. "I am Dr. Sara Johnson, head of the Department of Extraordinary Research. These are my colleagues, Dr. Thomas Lomn, Dr. Kolt Herman, Dr. Kaitlyn Young, and Dr. Jennifer Holmes. We have been studying magic for quite some time now. However, it seems that those with the ability to do magic are so scattered over the universe, there is no significant community of them that has been found. It seems that the community of Magical persons on Earth are either in deep hiding or completely destroyed—we cannot be sure. The records we have found, though extensive, do not give much history after year 2300 or so. We would appreciate any information that you can provide us."

Harry nodded. He carefully set his trunk on the table, undoing the catch. It popped open, its contents almost too much for it. Harry brought out a multitude of miniature books and un-shrunk them, much to the group's delight. He slid one stack to Dr. Johnson, and the other scientists eagerly grabbed for the other books.

"_The Book of Useful Spells_, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ _Encyclopaedia Magica_, _How to Care for Your Magical Garden_, _The Complete Book on the Care of Magical Creatures,_ _Potions Making—Beginning, Intermediate, and Advanced_, _Potions of Healing, Magic to Thwart Your Enemies, Life and Customs of Magical Beings, Fire Spells and Explosives, Ancient Rituals of Enhancement, The Great Book of Wards Volumes I, II, and III, Magical Items and Artifacts, Important Modern Magical Discoveries, Magical Land Plants Around the World, Magical Water Plants Around the World, Unique Magical Plants Around the World, Magical Buildings of the New Age, Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_," Dr. Johnson shook her head and stopped reading the titles. "Oh-One-Four, I am most impressed with your selection."

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry replied, removing a sack that took up a third of his trunk's space. He opened it and carefully took out the many glass vials within, placing them on the table. They were filled with all sorts of plant material—leaves, twigs, bark, roots, flowers, and seeds, as well as less recognizable things. He then brought out a deluxe potion-making kit (extremely expensive, but well within his trust vault's budget). There wasn't enough room on the table, so he passed it to Dr. Lomn, who grunted at its weight.

Then came the magical items—a Sneakoscope, a Wizard's Chess set, several cauldrons and knives, several pairs of dragon-hide gloves, moving models of magical creatures, and other knickknacks he thought ONI would enjoy. By the looks on their faces, they were having the time of their life—Dr. Herman was aggressively speed-reading through _One Hundred Ways to Win the Duel, _Dr. Young was gleefully watching a model of a unicorn, Dr. Holmes was inspecting a vial full of wriggling seed pods, Dr. Lomn was looking through the potions kit, and Dr. Johnson was looking at Harry with an amazed expression.

Harry then took out a bundle of parchment rolls. "I've written extensively on my experience," he said, holding them out. Dr. Johnson took them, immediately examining the texture of the parchment. He then handed her a stack of photos. At first glance, they looked like the paper, 2-D, color pictures common in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century, but then the scientist noticed that the top photo, one of a busy, cobblestone street, was moving like a looped video feed.

Dr. Johnson looked up at Harry. "Oh-One-Four, this is above and beyond our expectations. We are very grateful." She turned to Dr. Halsey. "That's all for now, I think. Maybe we can have him demonstrate his abilities some other day?"

Dr. Halsey nodded. "We'll be leaving, then." She put a hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him out of the room.

"What do you think of them, Harry?" she asked him, guiding him out of the laboratory complex. Harry shrugged.

"They weren't like how I expected," he replied. Dr. Halsey chuckled.

"Yes, the Department of Extraordinary Research contains some of the nicest of ONI. They have to be open-minded to do their job—they research only the strangest and most outlandish of phenomena."

Dr. Halsey stopped at the Reach mess hall. Loud, familiar racket could be heard within. "Your comrades are all eating right now. Go ahead and join them, and feel free to discuss where you've been." She smiled knowingly. "You've been missed."

Harry eagerly pushed open the doors to the mess. Chairs sqeaked as seventy-four sets of eyes turned to look at him. There was a second of silence, and then—

"Harry!"

"You're back!"

Kelly was (predictably) the first one to reach him. She slugged him hard on the shoulder.

"Harry, you bastard, how dare you just leave without telling us!"

Harry fought the urge to wince. That _hurt_. She had gotten stronger in the months he was gone.

"I didn't really have a choice," he said dryly.

"So, where'd you go?" That was John.

"They didn't tell you?" Harry asked, surprised. John and the others who had crowded around shook their heads.

"Mendez just said that you were on a mission, and that we ought to ask you when you came back," Kelly said.

"I went back to my original time," he explained. It wasn't a secret that he was from the past; living and training so closely together made keeping a secret near impossible. His fellow Spartans oohed and aahed. "For training."

"What was it like?" Sam asked eagerly. Harry grinned and put his trunk on the nearest table. He had brought back souvenirs.

,.,.,.,

**1000 Hours, December 24, 2521 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

Mendez looked up at the trainee he called into his office. He stood in at attention, eyes staring straight ahead.

"At ease," he commanded, and he relaxed minutely, his eyes meeting Mendez's. "You said you encountered a problem. Explain."

"Sir! A civilian girl in my class deduced that I am part of the military. That is all she knows."

Mendez stared at Harry. A civilian girl?

"Can she keep her mouth closed?"

"She has told no one else, sir."

"Then tell her."

Harry barely stopped himself from gaping at his commanding officer.

"Sir?"

Mendez narrowed his eyes. "You are going to be in that world for a long time. You need someone to confide in."

There was a brief silence.

"You are dismissed, trainee."

"Yes sir."

,.,.,.,

**1415 Hours, December 24, 2521 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

Harry lifted a fist to knock on Dr. Halsey's office door. He rapped twice, then stepped back and waited.

"Come in," Dr. Halsey called. Harry opened the door and stepped inside, saluting her. She smiled at him, then gestured at a chair across from her at her desk. "Take a seat, Harry."

Harry sat, resisting the urge to fidget under Dr. Halsey's piercing gaze.

"I'd like to know anything you think will help the Spartan program," she said, sipping from a mug of coffee on her desk. She grimaced. It was cold.

Harry took out his wand and tapped the mug. "Califacto." Steam rose from the murky liquid within.

"Hmm." Dr. Halsey took another sip. She sighed with satisfaction. "Thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome," he replied, cheeks warm with her praise. He cleared his throat. "Some of the spells for escaping detection were interesting. There is a spell called the disillusionment charm that renders a person almost invisible. I know our light-bending technology isn't quiet at that level yet…"

Dr. Halsey's eyebrows rose with interest. "Could you demonstrate that for me?"

"Yes, ma'am." He lifted his wand, twisting it into the proper rune, then tapped his head saying, "Pelluceo."

Dr. Halsey watched in amazement as he faded from view, leaving only the faintest of outlines to betray his position. Her head whirred with the possibilities.

Harry spoke the counter-charm and was visible once more. He took a bag out of his pocket and unshrunk it. It expanded into a large satchel. He pulled out his invisibility cloak.

"I was told this was a family heirloom. It also makes a person invisible." He held it out to her. She took it, examining the weave and water-like texture. "I believe it is made with the hair of a Demiguise, a creature that can turn invisible at will.

"May I?" she asked him, unfolding the cloak. Harry nodded, and she swept it across her shoulders, wrapping herself up. Harry conjured a mirror, and Dr. Halsey inspected her reflection, fascinated at only seeing her head, seemingly floating without support.

"I also experimented with using the disillusionment charm to make a similar type of garment." He pulled a translucent pair of pants, socks, and a shirt with a hood sewn onto it. "It's a little more obvious than the Demiguise hair cloak, but it's effective."

Dr. Halsey doffed the cloak and handed it back to Harry, trading it for the makeshift invisibility suit.

"I see," she said, inwardly gleeful. "Please, go on." It seemed the possibilities were endless.

,.,.,.,

**1400 Hours, December 25, 2521 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

"You mean, you actually did it?" Maria asked, eyes wide.

Harry smirked. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

"What did he do?" Kelly asked.

"He doesn't know yet," Harry replied, grinning. "He didn't see me."

John shook his head. "I'll believe it when I see it." The rest of the Spartans made noises of agreement.

"Dinner is only in two hours," Fhajad reminded them. "We'll all see then. Next dare!"

Harry turned to John, a devious grin on his face. "I dare you to go up to Déjà and use a pick-up line of your choice on her."

The room erupted in peals of laughter. John's face heated up, but he nodded.

"You need a witness," Kelly said.

"Not you," John said to her, and punched Harry's arm. "Come on, let's get this over with."

Harry nodded and followed him out of the barracks, toward the nearest building with a holotank. As they reached the front entrance, Harry slipped his invisibility cloak over his head.

"Damn it, Harry, you could at least give me some warning," John said, glaring at the spot where Harry disappeared. He went into the building, leaving the door open enough for Harry to slip through.

The holotank near the door flickered to live. Déjà smiled at John.

"Is there something you need, One-One-Seven?"

"Only you," he replied quickly, almost incomprehensibly, the tips of his ears red. Not waiting to see her reaction, he turned around and sped out, Harry following behind, both hands over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Harry tore off his cloak and laughed hard, tears forming in his eyes. "You should have seen her face!" he choked out. "She went all magenta and looked so surprised!"

John groaned. "I'm never going to hear the end of this."

The went back to the barracks.

"He did it!" Harry declared, still giggling. "And you should have seen it."

"What did he say?" Kirk asked.

"She asked if he needed anything, and he said, 'Only you!'"

The Spartans laughed raucously.

"You could at least be original!" Kelly said, chortling. John glared at her.

"Alright then. I dare you to steal Mendez's cigars!"

The room was filled with collective gasps.

Kelly lifted her chin. "Fine, I will." She sauntered out of the room.

The Spartans waited in silence. Some shook their heads.

"Mendez'll kill her if he catches her. . ."

"If? _When_, you mean."

Someone took out some cards. An hour passed, and then another half hour. It was time to go to dinner.

They filed out the door, silently walking to the cafeteria, half expecting Kelly to join them at any minute. They entered the mess hall, and took their seats.

The doors flew open, and Kelly ran in, laughing loudly. She held a box over her head.

The Spartans made room for her at the table. She showed them the box of Sweet William cigars, grinning triumphantly.

"How the hell did you. . .?" Kirk trailed off, staring at her prize.

"His window. I stole a diamond-edge knife from a trainer, then cut a hole in his window. Getting the cigars were easy after that," she said proudly.

"But the cameras?" Harry asked.

"Looping them was the first thing I did," she declared. "It wasn't hard at all."

The entrance of Mendez cut her story short. She hid the cigars under the table, and the Spartans all stood in unison, snapping to attention.

"At ease," the man said, looking at them calmly. The trainees stifled gasps of shock.

Mendez's hair was bright pink.

_Early the next day. . ._

"I still can't believe you did it," Kelly said to Harry as they cleaned the many toilets of the Reach Military Complex.

He grinned. "I could say the same to you."

"It was worth it, though."

"Heck yeah," he replied, and scrubbed the toilet with renewed vigor.

,.,.,.,

**0600 Hours, December 26, 2521 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

Harry fought to keep up with his fellows in the morning exercises. The months at Hogwarts hadn't been good for him—the constant sitting had weakened his endurance and muscle strength. He cursed and promised to work even harder to keep himself fit.

"Go, go, go!" the trainers yelled, and the Spartans obeyed, running into the forest. They easily climbed the broken terrain. Here, at least, Harry could keep up. He felt his heart pumping steady, no doubt in unison with the rest of the trainees as they moved as one solid machine. Then ran several miles, then started the trek back.

"Into the trees! Use your skills at stealth. If I see or hear any one of you, bread and water for a week!"

The children leapt up, scattering into the dense foliage. Despite the date, it was late spring on Reach. They moved like shadows through the forest, not making any noise.

Harry swung from branch to branch, making use of each shadow. He did not stop to rest, but moved with startling speed and agility toward the training facilities.

"Down, trainees!" Mendez shouted. "Keep running!"

Seventy-five soft thuds were heard as the Spartans leapt out of the trees. They were less than a mile from their destination, now.

"Sprint! The last one there will feast on bread and water!"

Harry forced his legs to move faster, twisting around tree trunks and jumping over roots that would otherwise trip him. He exploded out of the tree line and found himself not last, but no where near first, either.

"You're getting slow," Kelly teased. As always, she had arrived first.

Harry shrugged. "Whatever."

,.,.,.,

**0900 Hours, December 28, 2521 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

"Protego! Impedimenta! Impervius! Reducto!" Harry ducked and twisted as the magically-reinforced bullets (bullets he himself had reinforced, damn them) tore through his shields and hexes. He grinned savagely as his last spelled forced his assailants to scatter and tossed up dirt, ruining their aim.

Something rustled behind him. "Incarcerous!" he yelled, pointing his wand over his shoulder, and there was a thump as an invisible person dropped to the ground, outline revealed by thick ropes. Harry stunned the person before they could cut themselves loose. He immediately threw himself to the ground as more bullets filled the air above him. He hissed as one lucky shot tore through his arm. It had made a clean exit, so he muttered a quick, "Episkey," and got back up, tossing spells as quickly as he could get them out.

"He's very good," commented one of the spectators from the viewing box far above. His eyes glinted greedily as he watched the boy slowly but surely get the upper hand in the fight. "Are you sure you cannot spare him to train my new recruits?"

"He's away enough as it is," Mendez replied sharply. "You're lucky I allowed this little exercise." He gestured to the fray below. It was Harry against a group of fifteen ODSTs equipped with magically-enhanced armor and weapons.

"I'm not sure his becoming a Spartan is the best use of his abilities," the man said silkily. "Wouldn't he be of more use to the UNSC training more magicals?"

"It would be a waste of _his_ training," Dr. Halsey said, butting into the conversation. "After all, he is only a few years away from being a full-fledged Spartan. After that, he'd still have a few more years of Wizarding schooling, and then he would be a full-time soldier against the Insurrectionists. You realize, of course, that having a magical be part of the Spartan II program will radically cut down the time it will take to stop the rebels."

"I suppose," the man conceded, but his dark eyes remained fixed on the young wizard below. "Perhaps after this 'Insurrection' business is done, I can arrange for him to train the next generation of magical soldiers."

"…" Neither Dr. Halsey or Mendez replied, instead choosing to watch as Harry put down the last of the ODSTs.

,.,.,.,

**2359 Hours, December 31, 2521 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

"5!…4!…3!…2!…1!...HAPPY NEW YEAR'S!"

Harry watched, enthralled, as the sky exploded with light and color, swirling and clashing and shifting into the shapes of dragons and butterflies and eagles and fairies. The motes of light danced and fluttered in time with the roar of the UNSC anthem, punctuated with his and his fellow Spartan's cheers. Harry screamed himself hoarse as _2522_ scrawled across the sky, followed by _WE SURVIVED ANOTHER YEAR IN HELL. GO SPARTANS!_

"Who hacked the holoworks?" Kelly yelled into his ear, trying to get herself heard over the loud music.

"Who cares?" he yelled back, jumping up and down as his favorite song filtered over the sound system.

"Probably Kirk. You know he's jealous of what you guys did on Christmas," John said loudly. Kelly nodded at him.

Suddenly, the sharp staccato of gunfire broke the party atmosphere. The music abruptly stopped; the gunners had shot at the DJ controls. At once, everyone was on edge, pulling out combat knives and finding cover. Kelly lunged behind one of the huge holotanks set up for the holoworks show, Harry and John hot on her heels.

"Goddamn it, Mendez always freakin' ruins our parties," Kelly muttered, peering around the edge of the tank. She quickly pulled back. A burst of bullets peppered the wall behind them. "Group of gunners at the northwest corner of the 'dance platform'. At least twenty. They're spreading out," she said in a hushed voice

John and Harry nodded.

"Let's get these lights off. We know our way around by heart, but they don't," John whispered. Harry nodded, digging his combat knife into the seam of a maintenance panel in the side of the holotank. It popped open, and he carefully cut a few choice wires. A portion of the holoworks display winked out of existence. There was a slight pause, then the rest of the display blacked out, section by section, as the other Spartans followed their lead.

Reach's moons still gave off a little bit of light, but they weren't especially bright moons, and so the training grounds were bathed in darkness. John, Kelly, and Harry crept out of their hiding places, eyes quickly adjusting to the scanty light. They could see the gunners on the opposite end of the makeshift dance arena. They apparently didn't have night vision, but they did have flashlights. Harry ducked as a bright beam nearly gave away his position.

Kelly gestured; she wanted to flank them. Harry and John gestured affirmative, and they began to creep around the edge of the arena. They were joined by several of their fellow trainees. Several others were using the holotanks as safe harbors to gradually sneak closer to the gunners. They passed like ghosts through the night, speaking only in hand signals and making no noise.

The seventy-five Spartan children crouched into position, knives and small handguns at the ready. By some unspoken, primal signal, they simultaneously leapt into action. In seconds, the twenty-four gunners had been apprehended, stripped of weapons, and forced to their knees, knives at their throats or guns pressed into their backs.

"Ah, fuck it," said one of the would-be attackers. The nearest trainee kicked him, hard. He fell silent.

The floodlights were switched on, and the scene was illuminated. The Spartans glanced around, silently checking to see if anyone was hurt. No one was. They turned towards the sound of heavy, booted feet.

"Good work, trainees," said Mendez, appraising the situation. "Alpha Squad, I expect you back with your team within half an hour. Petty revenge is no reason to ruin a holiday. I'll be having words with your CO."

The Spartans stepped back from their captives, who quickly got to their feet, scowling. The apparent leader of the squad saluted Mendez.

"Sir, yes, sir," he said rather unenthusiastically. He picked up his weapon off the ground, put it on his back, then gestured to his squad. They trudged back the way they came, the Spartan trainees watching their every move.

Mendez turned to the Spartans. They stood at attention. "At ease, trainees. Despite Alpha Squad's apparent inability to make a good opponent, this was a good lesson for you. You all did well, for being caught flatfooted. Always be on alert." He cracked a rare smile. "Someone fix the holotanks and don't make too much noise after 400. Training is cancelled for tomorrow; special treat."

The Spartans snapped salutes at the man. "Sir, yes, sir!" they yelled simultaneously, grins on their faces.

Harry took out his main, holly-and-phoenix wand and repaired the holotanks and DJ. Light and music again filled the dance arena, and the trainees cheered.

Harry smiled wryly; he had forgotten all about magic in the fight. At least, he thought, he could still hold his own without it.

,.,.,.,

**1300 Hours, January 2, 2522 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

"Aguamenti!"

The ONI scientists watched with glee as a jet of water poured from Harry's wand and into a sterile beaker below. Dr. Lomn immediately snatched the beaker away and scuttled over to a strange gadget on a nearby lab table. He set it under the scanner and waited.

"It's definitely 100% H2O. You know, this _could_ solve the crisis in—"

"Let's not talk in hypotheticals quite yet, Dr. Lomn," Dr. Johnson said, walking over to see the results herself. "Where is this water coming from? Is it pulling molecules right out of the air? Does it have a source? Or is it just—" she hesitated, "—created?"

Dr. Young frowned. "But that would go against the law of conservation of mass—"

"—and pretty much every other law of conservation out there," Dr. Holmes muttered. "Where does this energy come from? Is he supplying it, and if so, how?"

"What are the body scans saying?" Dr. Johnson asked Dr. Herman, who was standing by a set of machines in the corner. The machines were connected to Harry by a net of hair-fine cords that completely covered his body.

"Nothing. They've been fried." He fiddled with the screens on the machines for a while. "I told you this would happen."

"Try another spell," Dr. Johnson told Harry. With an inward sigh, he swished his wand.

"Avis."

He listened, very bored, as the scientists fussed over the tiny birds he had forced into existence. He wanted to get back to training, _now_, not be ONI's little experiment. He had his orders, though. He would wait the torture out, or die from boredom trying.

**1000 Hours, January 5, 2522 (Military Calendar) /**** Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

Harry suppressed a sigh as he double-checked his trunk for anything he might need. He had everything.

John poked his head into the barracks.

"Hey."

"Hey," Harry replied. "Shouldn't you be at lessons?"

John shrugged. He sat on Harry's bunk, looking at the contents of the trunk. "You don't want to go back, do you?"

Harry frowned. "Not really. You saw how much worse I was, just being away for a couple months. I'm only in the first year of _seven_. What if I don't make it?" He, too sat down. "What if I get left behind?"

John clapped him on the shoulder. "You're tough, Harry. You're a Spartan. You can do whatever the hell you need to."

Harry smiled at John. "You're right. I just have to obey my orders. But…" He looked away.

"What?"

"I don't have team, there. It's just me and the rest of them. Even Hermione…no one understands. It's so different there, you know? I'll do something stupid, like pick up a huge stack of books instead of levitate them, and the other kids…they don't say anything out loud, but they look at me like…I dunno." He grimaced. "Like I'm a freak."

John frowned. "Then they're idiots. They must be weak as hell, if they use magic for everything. You're not a freak," here John grinned, "or if you are, then we all are. You're not alone, Harry."

Harry grinned back. "Thanks John."

John punched his shoulder. "For what?" He stood up and started towards the door. "Go have a good time. Bring me back something good." He slipped outside, not looking back.

Harry smiled grimly, shutting his trunk closed. He made his way to Mendez's office. He had a mission to complete.

,.,.,.,

Hey everyone! Thanks for reading, now give back and review. Tell me what you think! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter.

Sorry for the wait. :( Homework and stuff sucks.

-LilaKatze


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter or Halo, what am I doing here?

Soldier

by

LilaKatze

,.,.,.,

**1100 hours, January 5, 1992 (Military Calendar**_**)/**_**Sol System,**___** Hogwart Express, Platform 9 ¾, Wizard space, London, planet Earth.**_

Compartments were not comfortable places to exercise, Harry decided, waiting for Hermione to make her appearance and the inevitable conversation that would follow. The dumbbells he was using, courtesy of a funny little shop in Diagon Alley, were charmed to react to a person's strength and choose the appropriate weight. The moment he let go of them, though, they would become almost weightless.

He frowned and put them away, and stared quietly out the window. He caught sight of a familiar head of bushy hair, and watched as Hermione kissed her parents goodbye. He felt a twinge of longing, but brushed it aside, knowing that his family was always there for him, even hundreds of years in the future. He waited impatiently as she found his compartment.

"Hello, Harry," she said brightly, sitting down next to him. He smiled tightly, and locked the door.

"I have something I need to tell you," he said quietly, casting several privacy spells. "You can't repeat anything I say here to anyone."

Hermione nodded, her eyes wide. Would she finally, _finally_ get the answers she wanted?

"Long story short, I'm from the future." A gasp filled the compartment. Harry winced, but continued. "I'm being trained as a super-soldier to fight a civil war in the year 2522. I'm only here for magical training, and then I will go back to help my fellow Spartans."

Hermione watched him, her mouth open but her voice silenced with shock. She felt a thousand questions plead to jump out and be heard, but she couldn't form the words. The truth was truly stranger than she could have imagined.

Harry watched her nervously. "My CO—my commanding officer—told me to tell you."

She found her tongue again. "Won't this affect the future?"

Harry shrugged. "Apparently, there's something really complex going on, quantum-wise. ONI—the Office of Naval Intelligence—figured it all out. It won't hurt anything."

"What's it like?" she asked, the question bursting from her with uncontained curiosity. Harry laughed. He should have known she wouldn't reject him.

"You'll have to be more specific," he said, not knowing where to begin.

"The history, the technology, oh, everything!" Hermione's eyes began to shine. "520, no 530 years in the future. That's so much time for change, so much time for advancement and for history to happen!"

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Well," he began, "What I remember Deja telling me—"

"Who's that?"

"An AI—and artificial intelligence—who was our teacher in history, math, strategy and the like. Anyway, around this time in history were the Wars on Terror, I think."

Hermione looked a little puzzled, but Harry continued on before she could ask her next question.

"Anyway, maybe I'm a few years off. Late 20th century…cell phones, right? In a few years, they'll be tiny, fast, and connected to the Internet. That sped up the flow of information. Then, the Wars on Terror happened." Harry shook his head. "The Wars were pretty much a huge failure, sucking up trillions of dollars in military spending without much output, but around the same time, people started really trying to find alternative fuels to fossil fuels. They were bound to run out at some point, and it was polluting the Earth, which, back then—" Harry paused, "—well, now, wa—is the only planet available to Earth." Harry stopped for a moment to marvel at the fact. All the planets he had studied, visited, felt sturdily beneath his feet and breathed into his lungs…they were all empty. There was nothing out there. It brought the change in time into perspective like nothing else had.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, regaining his composure to hear Hermione ask, "Other planets are inhabited in your time? Have you encountered aliens?"

"Not yet," Harry said, then frowned. "Well, not sentient beings. A few of our planets have native flora and fauna, but we haven't met anything that can think on our level. Anyway, machines were made to stabilize gas percentages in the atmosphere, and immediately, people began to realize the possible applications. Luna had long been seen as uninhabitable, but with atmospheric processors, plus other terra-forming techniques, it was made suitable for colonization"

"Luna? As in, the moon?"

Harry laughed. "Do you know how many moons there are? The name was changed so that it wouldn't confuse simple NAV computers. After Luna, there was Mars, and then some of the Jovian moons. Then, there was the Interplanetary War, where the UNSC—"

"What's that?"

"The United Nations Space Command," Harry explained. "They defeated the Kolslovic and Frieden movements. The Kolslovics were communists, and the Friedens were fascist."

"Is the UNSC the government of your time?" Curiosity burned in Hermione's eyes.

"It's the military, exploratory, and scientific branch. The United Nations and the Colonial Administration Authority are the other two branches of the Unified Earth Government. The Interplanetary War ended a horrific number of human lives, but it eventually united the people…until my time." Harry's fists clenched in anger. Those damn Insurrectionists! He lingered on the thought, wondering if there was any way to prevent it in _this_ time, but he shook his head. Whatever he did in this time line, it affected a universe not his own. His own time would feel no consequences for his actions. He shook himself out of the rebel-induced anger.

"I'm getting ahead of myself. First, you need to know about the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine. It is probably the most important invention of all time."

Hermione leaned in. Harry almost laughed, betting that she wished she had some parchment to take notes.

"It pretty much rips holes into slipspace—slipstream space—which is like a hugely compressed version of normal space—and lets spaceships travel at faster-than light speeds. Just jumping between planets in the same system, like Earth to Mars, takes only an hour or so. System to system jumps take months, but all of UNSC-controlled space can be travelled in less than a year. The slipspace engine, plus cryonics, which is basically freezing people so that they can be transported for long periods of time without much aging, helped humans colonize huge portions of the Orion branch of the Milky Way."

"So you've been on other planets?" Her excitement was palpable. Harry almost felt embarrassed—these were basic facts on his side of the timeline.

"I've lived most of my life on another planet. Reach. It is a military stronghold, and where all of the most elite of the UNSC are trained. It's my home," Harry said, a bubble of fierce protectiveness rising in his chest. "Maybe even more than Earth is."

There was a long stretch of silence, and then Hermione asked, "How did you travel to the future?"

"Wish-magic," Harry said, and Hemione gasped. Wish-magic was the most powerful and instinctive kind of magic. It only manifested in particularly powerful witches and wizards, and even then, usually only in life-threatening situations. It was capable of incredible feats, expending almost the entirety of the magical person's power.

"You wished yourself into the future? Why?"

Harry frowned, hesitated, and then said quietly, "My living relatives were child-abusers. I wished to get away from them, to somewhere where I could get strong and never be put in that kind of position again."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at her too-personal question.

"I ended up in the ship of a woman who was the creator of the SPARTAN II project. I became one of the first recruits. Dr. Halsey healed me, and gave me a place where I can be strong and protect people." Harry's voice was fierce. "And being magical didn't make me any different with the Spartans. We all have to do the same exercises, we all have the same goal, and if I can make my team stronger with my magic, I will. That's why I'm here."

Hermione was quiet. Harry looked at her, and said, "Are you okay? I didn't think your questions would ever stop."

Hermione smiled faintly, and then turned serious. "What about…" she hesitated, "…You-Know-Who?"

"Voldemort? What about him?" Harry furrowed his brows.

"Some people think—Dumbledore included—that he'll be back."

"If I'm still here then, then I'll help fight him, but my mission is to fight the Insurrectionists." Harry frowned. "This isn't my home," he said, and then the silence stretched long, until Hermione pulled out a book from her bag to ease the awkwardness.

Harry pulled out his own book, and then shook his head, realizing that he had forgotten to ask Dr. Halsey to examine Hermione's DNA.

,.,.,.,

**1900 Hours, January 21, 1992 (Military Calendar)/Sol System, Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts grounds, Wizard space, planet Earth**

"Yeh'll be helpin' me find some more potion ingredients today, Mr. Potter. I know yeh like herbs an' such, so this'll be a treat." Hagrid emerged from his hut with a bit of folded up parchment. He opened it up and showed Harry the contents. "Winter spike-leaf. It's dead useful for treating wounds, an' I always give a little tea with it to any creature I'm tending. It helps them deal with the stress, see? Not one of them ever died when I gave them some spike-leaf tea."

Harry took a bit and examined it. The leaves were appropriately named, as they were nearly two inches long and very pointed and stiff. The stem was thick, and there were no flowers to be seen. It had a very slight odor of lemon.

"Yeh'll find it all over if yeh look. It's pretty common 'round here."

Hagrid was right, he thought, as they trekked into the forest. It _was_ everywhere. By the time his detention was over, he had collected an armful of the plant.

Hagrid beamed when he saw him. "Good job, Mr. Potter. You've got some keen eyes on yeh." He took the majority of the gathered material, but, as always, let him keep a portion.

,.,.,.,

**1500 Hours, January 22, 1992 (Military Calendar)/Sol System, Hogwarts Library, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth.**

_Spike-leaf is used in many potions, and is most well known for being one of two key ingredients in the Potion of Survival, which, when combined with the Draught of Living Death, can allow nearly anything to happen to a person's body, barring true death, and allow the person to survive, given time to recover while still under the effects of the potions. It is often used by Healers to assist in particularly difficult or dangerous healings._

Harry closed the thick tome, wondering if the potion could be used in surgery. There were still some very dangerous operations that didn't always go well for doctors. He added it to a list of things he would be sure to inform Dr. Halsey, along with the long searched for ward to repel physical objects, and a spell that would cut through any material.

,.,.,.,

**1200 Hours, February 14, 1992 (Military Calendar)/ Sol System, Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth.**

Harry frowned as he passed yet another girl fluttering their lashes at him on his way to sit down. He sniffed his pumpkin juice suspiciously. It wouldn't surprise him to find his drink spiked with love potions. He put the cup down, deciding not to risk it.

Valentine's Day. It seemed the Headmaster was fond of the holiday; his robes were a garish pink, with red hearts in flowery decorations. His hat, too, was similarly decorated, and he seemed to be humming to himself, smiling down at the students in the Great Hall. Everything, from the house banners to the pastries on his plate, was either pink, heart-shaped, or both. Harry grimaced once more.

He turned to Hermione, saying, "This is really ridiculous."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I think it's nice," she admitted, a bit of color in her cheeks. Harry shook his head at her.

"It's stupid and distracting."

Hermione shrugged, and nibbled on a piece of chocolate. "Well, the desserts are nice," she said.

Harry nodded his agreement, grabbing for a chocolate-covered strawberry.

,.,.,.,

**0430 Hours, March 12, 1992 (Military Calendar)/Sol System, Hogwarts Library, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth.**

_The Wit Sharpening Potion is a simple brew, capable of keeping a person's mind alert, even when tiredness or boredom begins to set in. It is unsafe for daily consumption (see Alertness Potion, pg. 302, a weaker alternative that is), but in weekly doses, has been shown to improve learning speed and retention. It is especially helpful when learning languages the non-magical way (see Language Potions), or when learning long lists of spells or dates. It does not help with the practical aspects of a spell, but rather, it can improve understanding through theory._

Harry smiled and jotted down the instructions for making the potion. He turned to page 302.

_The Alertness Potion acts much like a cup of coffee in that it makes a person more alert. It is not recommended for those who have trouble sleeping, and may worsen nightmares. It is otherwise a safe potion, and can be drunk throughout the day to give a slight boost in mental alertness. It should, however, not be drunk in excess._

He closed the book, uninterested, and found one on self-defense. He opened it, skimming the table of contents. There was a section on shields. He opened to it, skipping the bit on the _Protego_ shield, and reading the next entry.

_Most shields block only attacks of magical nature. The Bulla shield, however, protects from every type of attack, magical and physical, and from every direction, but only for a brief moment of time, and only in one place. It is recommended that one test this spell before using it, as the amount of time it lasts varies from person to person. The incantation is Bulla Aegis, and it is cast by drawing a circle in the air above one's head with one's wand. It is important to keep in mind that this can leave one vulnerable to attacks while being cast. Once cast, however, one can safely cast spells out of the shield._

_The Centonis shield, which appears as a glowing, translucent blue square of the caster's height and width, can protect one from fire and heat, and even some fire-related spells. It cannot, however, block anything else, and is thus not overly useful._

Harry kept reading, until he reached a bit on armor.

_It is also a good idea, when battling spell-casting foes, to invest in a set of dragon-hide (or similar, spell-resistant hide) armor, such as vests, gloves, pants, helmets, and boots. When purchasing armor, be certain that everything fits well and snugly, and will not impede movement. It is recommended that one wear in the armor so that it does not become stiff or uncomfortable in a fight._

_Certain cloth, too, such as that made from acromantula silk, can be embedded with protective spells. Even garments made from cotton or wool can be soaked in certain potions to give additional protection._

Harry smiled and kept reading, his head whirring with the practical uses of these spells.

,.,.,.,

**1159 Hours, April 1, 1992 (Military Calendar)/Sol System, Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard's space, planet Earth.**

Harry cut a piece of his chicken, bringing it to his lips and chewing thoroughly. He grabbed his pumpkin juice, and was about to sip when he caught a faint odor distinctly un-pumpkin like. He sniffed a nearby water pitcher. It, too, had a slightly foreign scent. He looked around. No one seemed to have noticed what he had.

The great, tolling bells that marked the midday hour, and as the last ring faded away, everyone's skin simultaneously turned bizarre, outlandish colors. That is, everyone except Harry, and third year Hufflepuff who was about to drink from his goblet. As soon as the liquid touched his lips, he went fluorescent blue.

The Hall erupted into chaos.

Dumbledore stood up at the head table, his skin a bright magenta. Loud popping noises burst from his wand. Silence immediately reigned, and he cleared his throat.

"As stunning as this display of mischief and potion-making is, I'm afraid it will not do to have our classes interrupted for reasons as petty as our skin color. I assure you all that, if this sudden change in coloration does not fade by the end of the day, steps will be taken to remedy it. If the perpetrator would like to step forward?" Dumbledore looked around the room. His eyes fell on Harry's normal, pale pink skin, and continued on, but no one identified themselves as the prankster. "Very well, then will the usual suspects," and he looked sharply at Fred and George Weasley, "and Harry Potter, please accompany me to my office?"

Harry rose from his seat. "I didn't do it," he told Hermione, not liking her disapproving expression. He and two red-headed twins followed the Headmaster to his office. The twins, both as orange as their hair, grinned at Harry as they took seats in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Now, boys, if you would please answer truthfully, did any of you conduct this prank?"

The twins remained silent. Harry followed their lead. The Headmaster's eyes twinkled brilliantly.

Addressing the twins, he said, "Your pranks have been increasing in sophistication over the years, dear boys. You quickly learned better than single yourself out as the only ones not affected, no?"

"It sure makes an innocent person—"

"—look guilty," the twins said.

"Mr. Potter, your father was quite the prankster in his day. He and his friends were famous for it—maybe even more famous that Messrs. Weasley. The Marauders, I believe they called themselves. I wouldn't find it strange at all if you were to take after them."

The Weasley twins had grown very silent, looking at each other with wide eyes. Harry glanced at them, and then looked at Dumbledore.

"I didn't do it, sir."

Snape strode in, a goblet in his hand, making little sound. His scowl was particularly fierce; his skin was a sickly green. Harry's fingers twitched toward his knife.

"Why, then, Mr. Potter, were you the only one unaffected?"

"I could smell it, sir. The pumpkin juice didn't smell right."

Snape took a long whiff from the goblet in his hands. His nostrils flared. "Indeed," he said, looking at Harry appraisingly. "A faint odor not unlike fluxweed, and…" He sniffed again. "Show me your hands."

Harry raised an eyebrow and displayed his palms to the professor. Snape glared at the twins, and slowly, hesitantly, so did they. Besides the orange, their hands were stained a rainbow of colors, from red to green to turquoise. They grinned sheepishly.

"We should have—"

"—worn gloves after all."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Messrs. Weasley, and detention every evening this week. If you have the time to make potions for your pranks, you have the time to make the antidote."

"Now Severus—" Dumbledore began.

"Surely, Headmaster, you understand that such repeat offenders as these two must be disciplined? It wouldn't do to have Mr. Potter be under the impression that troublemakers are let off lightly." Snape said the word _troublemakers_ acidly, his black eyes staring piercingly into Dumbledore's blue ones.]. Dumbledore sighed, hearing the reminder of his past failures.

"I apologize, Severus. Of course, you are right. I suppose it is only fair that they work to remedy this situation," Dumbledore allowed. "And my apologies to you, Mr. Potter. It seems that sharp senses, not guilt, has kept your skin delightfully unremarkable. Severus, if you would, please escort these young gentlemen back to the Great Hall."

Snape nodded curtly, and then looked at the three boys. He flicked his eyes towards the door and turned towards it, his robes billowing as he stepped out of the room. Harry and the twins followed. They made their way towards the Great Hall. The twins went to take their seats, grinning as admiring glances and irritated looks came their way. Harry followed at a more sedate pace. Snape spoke, and Harry stopped, turning around.

"You would do well _not_ to follow your father's footsteps, Mr. _Potter_." He sneered, looking into Harry's eyes. The moment was long and bizarre in its silent awkwardness. Snape seemed to snap out of whatever was captivating him, looking shocked and alarmed for fraction of a second before scowling deeply. "It wouldn't do for you to end up like him, would it? Your mother—" he abruptly stopped, color blooming on his face like a rash. He gave another curt nod, turned around, and strode away without another word.

Harry watched him go, very confused. What had that been? He had mentioned Harry's parents. Had he known them? He looked about the right age to have been at Hogwarts at the same time.

Harry shook his head. It didn't matter, really, he thought, and took his seat at the Ravenclaw table.

_later that day_

"Oi! Harry!"

Harry turned around. It was the Weasley twins, identical heads poking out from under a tapestry that he had always thought covered stone wall. They beckoned to him, grinning. He gauged their expressions; they didn't seem to wish him harm, so he walked towards them. They disappeared behind the tapestry.

He touched the ancient clothe, and lifted it up. Stone. He touched the wall, and his fingers passed through. Raising his eyebrows, he stepped into the wall and out into a dimly lit passage. The twins were waiting for him. He tensed, ready to strike if he needed to.

"Sorry about that, mate!"

"We didn't think—"

"—that anyone would figure it out—"

"—until _after_ they drank."

"So, congrats, mate!" they said together.

"For not being drugged?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. He wondered how quickly _they_ would learn to smell things in their food if they knew they would get horrible stomach aches if they didn't. Harry had been the third fastest of the Spartans.

"Well, we wouldn't call it drugged, per se,"

"but, what we really mean—"

"—is that you are now our new secret partner!"

With a swift motion (and here Harry's knife hand twitched), one of the two took an old piece of parchment from his pocket.

"Behold!"

"The Marauders' Map!"

"Of course, seeing as you—"

"—are the son of a Marauder—"

"—you might already know about it."

"I don't," Harry said, and for a moment the twins deflated. Then, they perked back up.

"That's alright—"

"—because pranking _must_ be in your blood."

"We got it from our uncles, see,"

"Gideon and Fabian were their names, we're Gred and Forge,"

"—and they're dead, so—"

"—even though your dad's six feet under—"

"—pranking still must be a part of you."

They finished with identical grins, "So welcome to our fold!"

"Lee's an honorary member—"

"—but that's because he can get us some wicked supplies."

"His dad's a potion maker—"

"—and his mum's a herbologist—"

"—so whenever we can't risk stealing from Snape—"

"—we ask him to snatch a couple stuff from home,"

"—but we want you to be a secret—"

"—even from him, because—"

"—he's a bit of a gossip—"

"—like a woman, him—"

"—and to pull off some truly fantastic stuff—"

"—we need someone totally innocent to help us out-"

"—and of course, who's more innocent—"

"—than the Boy-Who-Lived?"

By the end, Harry was grinning despite himself. The two reminded him a bit like some of the pranksters back home. One of the boys pulled out his wand, and tapped, the old bit of parchment, saying, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Black lines crawled from his wand tip on the sheep skin, crisscrossing and curving and twisting and sharply turning all across the parchment. The twin unfolded it, and a map of Hogwarts spread beautifully across the flat surface. Little dots seemed to be plodding their way through the halls; as he looked closer, he could tell that they were actually footsteps. He focused on one, and a little scroll with a name appeared. _Padma Patil,_ he read, and whistled softly. This was a good tool to have.

"We haven't memorized everything yet,"

"But we're willing to share,"

"If you agree, that is."

Harry was convinced.

"I'm in," he said, and grinned as the two boys took his hands and shook them heartily.

,.,.,.,

Hello all. It's seems it has been nearly a year since my last update…sorry about that! As to when I'll update again, I really don't know. But, an early happy birthday to yuya-chan, who made me realize just how long it's been since I've updated.

Also, this hilarious review from "arandomreviewer" makes me giggle every time:

"RAVENCLAW! the #3/ is wrong with you! harry is a desendant of Gryffindor and Slytherin and his traits are that of a gryffindor. are you a hopeless ravenclaw lover? because being a gryffindor is the most influential part of the harry potter series! what about Ron and the rest of the Weaslys? how can he wield the sword of Gryffindor now? what of all the important things that happen in the gryffindor dorms? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!"

I am a hopeless Ravenclaw lover, but mostly, I did it because there are just to many Gryffindor and Slytherin stories. I seriously considered Hufflepuff, too. Also…why would any of this have to line up exactly with the Harry Potter series? It's AU for a reason. If I made perfect parallels all the time, my story would be pretty damn boring and predictable.

Here's another by the same random reviewer:

"oh god please tell me this isnt going to be one of those budding middleschool romances between HP&HG fics. *gags*"

Hahahahahaha oh, random reviewer, you amuse me. As for the question, no, I don't think there will be much romance, esp after augmentation.

Also, to alokin, for pointing out that most of the exercises in chapter 3 are basically impossible in the time period allowed, thank you thank you thank you. I was really wondering how long it would take for someone to point that out, and when I got that review, it made my day.

Please review! Thank you to all who have so far!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Did you know these disclaimers do absolutely nothing, legally?

Soldier

by

LilaKatze

,.,.,.,

**1900 hours, April 22, 1992 (Military Calendar**_**)/**_**Sol System,**_** Hogwarts grounds, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**_

_Harry inhaled the pure, clean scent of Hagrid's garden, and frowned at the tinge of smoke. He inspected Hagrid's house and noted the smoke rising from the chimney and tightly shut curtains. He hadn't noticed it before; he had been meeting Hagrid at another part of the forest boundary for nearly three weeks, and he hadn't stopped to look at the hut on his morning exercises._

_He knocked on the firm, wooden door and listened to Hagrid's booming footsteps approach. The large man stuck his scraggly head out the door, looked around, and then hastily motioned Harry to enter, quickly closing the door behind him. The inside of the room was stifling, and Harry could see that Hagrid's forhead and beard were soaked in sweat. Harry keep his hand near his weapons; although he doubted Hagrid would harm him, he knew that he had different standards of what consisted of "dangerous"._

_"Now, Mr. Potter, I haven' been rightly honest with yeh lately, 'bout why we had to meet o'er on the far side of the Whompin' Willow, but yeh've got a right good heart in yeh, I know. So I'll let yeh in on a secret o' mine."_

Absolutely beaming, Hagrid uncovered his prize: a large, unmistakably wobbling, and gleaming dragon egg.

"Hagrid," Harry started to say, and then shook his head. "How are you going to keep it?"

Hagrid's face became puzzled, as if this question had never occurred to him. "Wha' d'yeh mean, Mr. Potter?"

"It's going to grow, fast," Harry pointed out. "And start breathing fire. Your house is made of wood."

"I'll teach it ter flame outside," Hagrid said.

"Where? The forest? You know the balance in the forest is fragile, Hagrid. What's a dragon going to do to it? What will it eat? And keeping dragons has to be illegal…"

Hagrid looked at the ground and shuffled his feet, a strange gesture from such a large and intimidating being. "Well, I jus' figured I'd figure it out as I wen' along, yeh know, play it by ear."

"Where'd you even get a dragon egg? Aren't they illegal to trade, too?"

"I won it," Hagrid said proudly, his beam back. "A bloke in th' pub played me a game o' cards. A real animal lover, he was. Kept askin' me 'bout my own pets. Told 'im about Fluffy, a right fine Cerberus o' mine. 'How d'yeh keep 'im tame?' he asked me, and 'course I told 'im, Fluffy en't nothing but a sleepy pup when yeh play a little music. Falls righ' ter sleep." A look of serious contemplation crossed Hagrid's face. "I shouldn' a told 'im tha'," he said, concerned.

"Why not?" Harry asked, sensing intrigue.

"That's none of yer business, I'm afraid, Mr. Potter. 'Fraid tha's between Professor Dumbledore 'n' Nicolas Flamel, best not ter—" Hagrid stopped. "Spread the word. I shouldn' a told yeh that."

"I'll keep the secret, " Harry promised immediately, hoping for another tidbit. Hagrid only beamed at him once again.

"See, yer a good lad, I knew it. An' I'm sure there's no need ter worry," he said, muttering to himself. "The stone's got loads o' protection. An' that bloke couldn't o' been too bad, seeing as 'e likes dragons an' all." Hagrid shook himself from his reverie and sighed. "Yer right, Mr. Potter," he said more loudly. "I ain't fit ter give the wee thing a home. I jus' wish…" He sighed. "I jus' always wanted ter have a dragon, yeh know? A right fine dream o' mine."

"Aren't there any dragon sanctuaries? Maybe one of them could take him in."

A look of surprise crossed Hagrid's features.

"Sanctuaries? Well, why dinna I think o' tha'?" Hagrid beamed at Harry. Then his face fell. "Course, I'll sure miss the poor wee thing."

"I'm sure they will let you visit," Harry reassured Hagrid, relieved that his guess had been correct. He was worried that dragons were hunted, not protected, given all the dragon hide wares he had seen.

"Yeh think so?" Hagrid asked with hope. Harry nodded.

"How about you research dragon facilities, find one that you think will suit the dragon, and send them an owl?"

Hagrid nodded and thought. He gnawed his large lower lip, a worried expression slowly forming. "Won' they want ter know where I got 'im?"

Harry quickly thought of a simple lie. "The man at the pub – say he wouldn't take no for an answer. He gave you the egg and went his way. That makes you look good, since you're saving the, um, poor wee thing, from who-knows-what."

Hagrid's face was once again all sunshine. "Good thinkin', Harry!" He clapped the boy on the shoulder, a blow which would have knocked over any other boy his age – any other one which hadn't been battered every which way to gain balance. Harry endured it, knowing it was well-meant. He didn't even correct Hagrid about his name.

Hagrid gazed at the egg, his eyes soft and moist. Then he covered it up once again, cleared his throat, and appeared to force a smile.

"Well, I guess you better be off, Mr. Potter. There's no tasks fer me ter give yeh today. I know it seems there's loads o' time 'fore exams, bu' if there's one thing I ever learned, it's tha' revisin' is best not left t' the end!"

"You went to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, slightly surprised and feeling ashamed that he was. He had assumed Hagrid was not formally educated.

"Course! Well, fer a few years," Hagrid said, trailing off at the end and avoiding Harry's gaze. It seemed it was a delicate matter. Harry awkwardly patted Hagrid on the arm.

"Good luck finding a sanctuary, Hagrid," Harry said as he turned to open the door. He could feel the breeze from outside as a breath of refreshing coolness.

"Thanks, Mr. Potter," Hagrid said, his smile a little less forced. Harry trudged through the April mud back to the castle once again.

**2052 hours**

Harry quickly and quietly disillusioned The Twins – what he referred to "Gred and Forge" as in his head – and ducked into a secret passage, sprinting across to a different part of the castle while simultaneously casting the spell at himself. He slipped out near the door to the third floor corridor almost too fast for his own good – he would have crashed straight into a shifty looking Quirrell if he had kept running.

Quirrell was muttering to himself, pacing in front of the door and seemingly trying to stare straight through the floor. The muttering was so soft, Harry couldn't hear precisely what he was saying, although it seemed to be well-enunciated and possibly in Latin. Harry raised an eyebrow. This was a far cry from the incompetent and stuttering wreck Harry was used to.

Harry would have stayed and watched more, but he had a task and stopping had already put him behind schedule. He quietly slipped past Quirrell, who, for a long second looked up, and then resumed his probable spell-casting.

Harry continued his sprint until he reached the top of the Grand Staircase, then, watching carefully for anyone still up – it was exactly one minute until curfew – flashed his wand like a strobe light and then raced to the Ravenclaw common room.

He made it, barely, and removed the disillusionment charm. He quickly answered the riddle and then casually walked in, avoiding the notice of most. He made his way to his dorm and sat on his bed. Whatever The Twins had done, it had better be magnificent, he thought to himself. He had missed an opportunity to study with Hermione, and make she wasn't working herself half to death.

Resolving to make it up to her later, Harry took out a little project he had been working on. It was a prototype of something he hoped would eventually be useful to his fellow Spartans: a smooth stone enchanted to throw out a spell when certain conditions are met. Unfortunately, he was having a hard time even enchanting it to float, supposedly one of the easiest enchantments there was. He thought of the staircases and the sky-ceiling in the Great Hall and resolved to keep trying. He was only a first year, but his resolve and firm belief in himself made him a strong spell caster, and his attention to detail and meticulous precision made the spell names and wand movements no obstacle. However, he knew that enchantments were notorious for being a trickier branch of magic than what Snape would call "foolish wand-waving". They required steady and very well controlled manipulation of magic into runic forms, and then containment of that magic, in its form, into the intended vessel. Some very strong individuals, with much practice, could even enchant purely using force of will. In a way, it was similar to wish magic, and so Harry thought that perhaps he would have a natural flare. If he did, it wasn't very forthcoming. He picked up the introductory book he had found in the library, titled, _Enchanting for Emerging Enchanters_. He reread the passage on the basic technique.

_Enchanting requires patience and concentration. The Enchanter must be able to feel his own magic, first as a force within, and then as a thrum in the air, forever present and ever present, but often faint, except for in areas where magic has been used in great concentration. To describe it is as difficult as describing any sensation to one who is unfamiliar with it – for how could one describe the feeling of a cool mountain breeze to a Goblin child raised for decades underground? Or the feeling of true starvation to a man who has never once went a day without meal? Or the pleasure of lovemaking to a virgin pure enough to stroke the horn of a Unicorn? But I digress. _

Obviously, Harry thought. Virgins and starving men, hopefully, had nothing to do with enchanting.

_For some, it is nearly a tickling, or itching of the mind, nearly imperceptible at first, but then gradually becoming more noticeable. For others, a buzz or vibration in the air or within themselves. Yet others describe it as water- or air-like, and flowing, and others call it a warmth that permeates and glows. _

_It is best to find a quiet spot, away from sources of magic and magical interference, in order to sense the power that is within oneself. Clear the mind of thoughts and focus on finding the force that powers your feats of magic. Cast a spell, and search for it passing through your arm, into the focus that is the wand, and into the world._

_This is the first task of the Emerging Enchanter._

Harry closed the book in disgust. He had hoped he was wrong, but this time he was sure that by "magical interference" the author meant the background magic found in places where magic was cast in large amounts. Given he was in bloody Hogwarts, it was unlikely he was going to find any place on the grounds that would have low background magic. Even the forest teamed with magic – it had to, or it wouldn't be so full of magical creatures.

He hoped that when he returned home for summer break, he would be able to a place and some time to figure out this "feeling magic" thing. He hadn't realized until one of his first disillusioned cloaks had faded back into visibility sometime during Easter break (which he had spent at Hogwarts, as the week was hardly enough time to go back for any significant training) that spells weren't usually meant for long-lasting effects. It took enchantments to pull off more than a permanent sticking charm, and even spells such as that took runic wand movements and a surprising amount of force. He supposed there was likely a continuum from spell to enchantment, but he had a feeling some of it was classified as dark…and although he was sure he would learn what he could about the Dark Arts when he got a chance, he wasn't planning on practicing any until he learned exactly what made something dark, and if there were any lasting consequences.

Harry put the book away and got under his bedcovers, closing the curtains of the four poster bed. He quickly fell asleep.

,.,.,.,

_**0600 hours, April 9, 2518 (Military Calendar) /Epsilon Eridani System, Spartan Training Ground, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach.**_

_It was cold, dark, and nearly rainy, but the excitement among the Spartan trainees was strong and visible in their bright eyes. The day was Easter, a near-meaningless word at that point except for neo-Christians and scholars, but still the word used to designate the holiday celebrated by billions across UNSC-controlled space. The colored eggs were a near-ubiquitous tradition, and the Spartans had their own take. Color-coded eggs, most somewhat dangerous, some mildly irritating, others, worth fighting for. Red eggs? Mildly explosive if jostled. Metal eggs? Likely to be a pressurized canister of sedating gas, and touch-sensitive. Blue eggs? Filled with manufactured skunk-stink, and very fragile. On the color-coding went, including seven golden eggs with pure chocolate goodness inside. The seven with the golden eggs got a special trip to Manassas, the largest civilian city on Reach._

_Almost as soon as Mendez blew his whistle, there was a _crack_ and a hiss of gas as someone stepped on a camouflaged egg. Harry held his breath and ran in the other direction, into the wind, which would hopefully keep the gas from blowing towards him. From what little he smelled, it was a mace bomb, filled with spicy capsaicin suspended in pressurized gas. He really had avoided the brunt of it; it tickled his nose, but not much else. He could hear violent coughing and sneezing in the direction he ran from, but he didn't stop to look back, only to look down and around to make sure he didn't set off any eggs himself._

_Once he had reached what he deemed a safe distance from the others, he disappeared into a tree. He was small, he knew, even after all the eating and exercise. This helped him hide. Hiding was second nature – nothing was better at the Dursleys than making himself scarce enough that he couldn't be hurt or punished._

_It had been more than seven months since he had last seen the Dursleys. It seemed like years. His past life felt like nothing more than a dream, and this – this branch against his face, this tickle in his nose, and this inhospitable planet – it was reality, sharp and distinct as every thought that marched in his head as orderly as standing to attention. He knew the others felt that way too, even though none of them talked about their homes. Not yet, maybe not ever, since there was so much to do and every moment had to be alert and – _

_There. A flash of metal in a crotch of a tree only meters away. He knew what it was: the sedative egg. If he was careful, and stayed upwind, he could use it to make someone with a golden egg fall asleep. He knew that Mendez had been going easy on them by telling them what the eggs were beforehand. He bet that the next year, they wouldn't be so lucky._

_It was touch-sensitive, which meant heat-sensing, motion-sensing, or both. The motion-sensors were probably not too sensitive, but if it was heat-sensing, a touch of a fingertip could set it off. He took off his shirt and waited for it to cool, trying not to shiver. Checking in every direction for other trainees, he approached the egg, set the shirt in front of it, and slowly, carefully, used a stick to move the egg onto his shirt. He grabbed the ends of the shirt and cautiously lifted it. It remained sealed._

_Slowly, he crept towards the din in the distance. He passed by two other eggs: a purple one that was more like a water balloon, and filled with a liquid that would temporary blind a person, and a yellow one, bright and obviously placed, which was filled with loud bells. He picked up the purple but avoided the yellow._

_A flash of gold, and a crash through the trees in front of him. He followed the scuffling pair from a good distance, and waited for them to pick a spot to fight in. He crept closer, then threw the metal egg with fairly good accuracy at one of the fighting pair. The metal capsule burst open, but was nearly soundless as it let out its contents. Harry ran upwind again, but stayed close to defend his prize._

_A twig snapped and Harry looked towards it, but there was nothing there. Suddenly, there was an arm around his neck. Before he could be choked, he grabbed the purple egg from his pocket and smashed it into his aggressor's face. He slipped from the hold as whoever it was instinctively reached for their eyes._

_It was Kelly. Of course she would be fast enough to snap a twig and run around behind him. She flailed and was panicking, by the look of it, but Harry knew he didn't have much time. The sky was getting brighter by the second, and Mendez didn't like to give them the advantage of good lighting. Harry ran to where he left the two fighting boys, Vinh and Malcolm, apparently. He quickly searched them, but their suspicious lack of eggs meant one thing – someone had stolen his loot._

_He frowned and even stomped a foot, but as he heard the whistle signaling the end of the exercise, he thought of Kelly. He ran back to get her._

_She was sitting on the ground, silently weeping as she rubbed her eyes again and again. Harry breathed loudly enough for her to hear him, and she turned toward the sound._

"_I'm sorry," he said, and took her hands away from her face. He helped her up and she tried to hide her face from him._

"'_S okay," she said, a bit stuffed up from crying. She cleared her throat. "I just don't like…I mean…If I can't see, I can't run." She said this with such desperation that Harry felt even guiltier for leaving her behind._

_Harry didn't say anything, but he guided her towards Mendez and the others. They were almost the last ones to arrive, but the purple liquid was surprisingly long lasting. It didn't look like anyone else got hit so directly in the eyes. Vinh and Malcolm trailed behind them a half-mile, and several minutes after they arrived, John stumbled out of the trees, little scorch marks on his clothes and stinking, with a visible bump on his head and a dazed look in his eyes. He had no golden egg either._

_,.,.,.,_

**0400 Hours, April 23, 1992 (Military Calendar) /Ravenclaw dormitories, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth**

Harry woke slowly, finding it hard initially to distinguish dream from reality. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he fought back feelings of longing. He wondered what the eggs had been like this year, or if there had been any at all. As time passed, Mendez had been cutting out the more "childish" aspects of the program and replacing them with practical, realistic scenarios.

He smiled a bit, and wondered if everyone had ganged up on John, again. Most likely they had, since in any individual exercise, there were a group who seemed to make it their goal to make John's odds the worst. It was partially revenge and partially a challenge that they knew would serve to make their squad leader better.

It had turned out to be lucky that John, Kelly, and he did not get any golden eggs. Manassas was struck by a terrorist bomber that very afternoon, killing over two million civilians and severely damaging many more. The entire planet had been swarmed by decontamination units, sent to prevent the spread of radiation and remove what they could, but even four years later, he knew that Manassas was still recovering. The "lucky" seven who had been sent to the city for their reward returned on stretchers and were hospitalized for an entire month, luckily far enough away from ground zero of the blast to make a full recovery. Yearly, the Spartan trainees were all sent to assist in some way in the reconstruction effort.

Reach was their home. The terrorist – an Insurrectionist – had violated and killed its citizens and made a mockery of its heavy fortification. For Harry as for the other Spartans, it brought home what they were fighting for. They knew, of course, that the UNSC was hardly innocent. They had studied every major conflict that the UNSC had with the Insurrectionists, privy to information that was censored from the press, and knew that almost every Insurrectionist base was home to the families of the rebel commanders and fighters. ONI was ruthless, and soldiers obeyed orders.

But the Spartans existed to end the large scale destruction, to target with specificity and fight as honorably as possible. If they succeeded, millions, even billions of non-combatant lives would be saved. Harry felt himself become filled with purpose as he remembered the torn apart streets he helped to reconstruct, and the terror that filled the people of Manassas when they realized that even in the heart of UNSC territory, they weren't safe.

When Hermione joined him in the common room, she noticed the hard look in his eyes and his especially rigid stance. Without a word, they went down to the grounds together.

As Hermione started her comparatively light exercises, she watched Harry and wondered about his life in the future. What Harry had told her so far was incredible, frightening and exhilarating. The Spartan program itself, and the dubious morality of it, made her feel uncomfortable and amazed at the same time. She spent an embarrassing amount of time in the last few months thinking about it, wondering if she were in Dr. Halsey's position, she would do the same. Imagining the future had become a pastime, an obsession almost, which she could only put aside to study magic and to train with Harry.

Magic, which was here and now, real and amazing, made her just as uncomfortable as the Spartan program. She read about the Statute of Secrecy and what methods were designed to truly implement it: Obliviation, culling of magical creatures when they overpopulated muggle areas, the disturbing revelation that a muggleborn's parents had absolutely no rights in regards to their children. Muggleborns were considered under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic, and were considered minors until they reached 17, but had no official guardian. This was supposedly to make it so that a muggleborn's parents could not keep a muggleborn from being schooled magically, but Hermione saw this as a way to make muggleborns effectively powerless, since there was no one to speak for them, and no one was notified if they were injured or even if they disappeared or were killed.

She wouldn't have found this tidbit out if Harry's explanation about how the majority of the Spartan trainees had been taken as children didn't spark her interest in the magical world's laws on children and their welfare. There were nearly none that protected children, and those that did exist appeared to cover line theft and kidnapping more than anything. Most of the laws covered what children weren't allowed to do, mainly magic. As she searched for reasons that magical children weren't better protected, she discovered a great deal of wording which implied that children didn't need protection – that a child's magic would save a child in true danger. Bodily injuries were treated with a nonchalance that suggested that the Wizarding world was very used to being able to heal a broken bone or concussion within a day, or even within minutes. Spell damage was taken more seriously, but the laws covering spell injuries and attacks applied to the magical population as a whole, with anecdotes of children as well as adults being sent to Azkaban for their offenses. Almost nothing was stated to protect muggles or beings such as centaurs and mermaids, except when it risked the secrecy of magic. She suspected that a curse that caused a muggle accident which in no way appeared connected to magic would be perfectly legal.

As she ran around the lake while Harry did whatever he did through the forest, which she refused to set foot in (it was Forbidden for a reason!), she mused that if the Wizarding world could create temporary clones of muggleborns and then replace and kidnap them, it probably would. In fact, she imagined that it was most likely possible with magic, but, she thought with a shudder, also probably dark magic. The extremely harsh laws against dark magic were likely what saved her from that fate.

Thighs burning, she shed her outer robe and her loose muggle exercise clothing to reveal a very modest muggle bathing suit, and waded out into the lake. It was freezing cold, and for a moment she stood still to acclimatize, the water up to her waist. The view was breathtaking, as dawn was finally just beginning to crack and the water shimmered, reflecting the trees along parts of the shore. In the distance, she could see a lazy tentacle from the Giant Squid idly making ripples at the surface of the water. The sky was pink, purple, and soft. She smiled, then gritted her teeth and continued into the lake. As soon as she was up to her shoulders, she began to swim parallel to the shore, keeping in the shallow areas because she had read that the deeper portions of the lake teemed with dangerous magical creatures. She heard a very muted splash in the distance and knew that Harry had dove into the lake, likely leaping from a tree branch in a way that, had she watched, would have likely made her palms sweat in sympathetic fear.

But Harry was fearless, or at least seemed that way, and so strong and swift that sometimes she couldn't help staring in amazement. She knew she was feeling a bit of a crush, but she ruthlessly buried those feelings, knowing, though he had never told her, that there was no way he could ever have a relationship with her, even if he felt the same way back. And he didn't, she felt intuitively. He was too focused on his task, though he was kind to her and seemed to feel the need to protect her. A few times she had allowed herself to daydream that he would fall in love with her, and decide to stay in his true time to defeat Voldemort and reform the Ministry.

But she knew his home was 10.5 light years away and centuries in the future, and no amount of daydreaming would change that.

**0830 hours, Great Hall**

A loud trumpet interrupted Hogwarts' breakfast as twelve lions, a number of tigers, several dozen monkeys, and an enormous elephant burst into the Great Hall, scattering in all directions and generally causing havoc. Parrots, eagles, butterflies, and miniature dragons flew in all directions, squawking, diving, fluttering, and flaming, respectively. The students jumped and scattered in fright, but it soon became apparent that these animals, though lifelike and opaque, were nothing more than illusions, passing through tables and people as easily as ghosts.

Harry looked on in amazement, then looked up as he heard twin footsteps approach him.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Zonko's made a deal with us – "

" – or rather, we made a deal with them – "

"to test out their newest product – "

"Menagerie Mirages!"

"Looks like they still need a little work – "

" – but they've got a neat idea here."

Harry grinned at The Twins and watched the chaos as Hogwarts students chased and laughed at the antics of the intangible animals. Magnificent, indeed.

**1830 hours, Hogwarts Library**

"And you're sure Professor Sinistra said that Eridanus is in the shape of a river?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You heard her as well."

Hermione flushed. "I just wanted to make sure." She made the note on her star chart.

"Eridanus has twenty-four stars, the brightest of which is Archernar and the closest of which is ε Eridanus, an orange star with several planets and two asteroid belts. Many have been made habitable, including Beta Gabriel, a place for rich assholes to play golf, Circumstance, known for its universities and centers of justice, and of course, Reach, a planet made tolerable for human life through rudimentary terraforming. Cold, windy, and dry is the usual weather, and compared to Earth, the days are dim, and the nights are dark. Sometimes you can see clouds of color and light from a nearby nebula, but usually you can just see stars, satellites and ships, and faint lines from the space elevators. Little groups of New Hungarians live in self-sustaining clusters around the planet, and there are a few large cities of several million each. Much of the land is either farmland or military compound, with civilian districts scattered about." Harry smiled in a gently mocking way at Hermione. "And if you wanted to know more about the planet I call home, you could have just asked."

Hermione blushed and said, "Sorry. I didn't really know how to broach the subject."

Harry shrugged. "I'd rather you just be blunt and ask outright. You know that." He looked around the library to make sure no one was close by, and then took his datapad out of his bag. He turned it on, and with a couple quick swipes, looked up Reach on his encyclopedia, then handed the datapad to her. She gasped and eagerly began paging through the encyclopedia entry. She had watched while he read through his lessons before, but had never asked to see the datapad for herself, and he had never let her hold it.

"Go ahead and look up what you want," he said as he finished his Astronomy assignment. He could see her bushy hair quivering with excitement out of the corner of his eye as she read. They sat in silence for a quarter hour, and Harry got started on his transfiguration homework. He read through the required passages.

…_And though metals can be transfigured into cheaper metals with relative ease, the reverse is not true, and is never as lasting. Copper may be transfigured into tin for a number of hours, and then returned to its original form, but tin transfigured into copper will revert back to tin within a few short minutes. Copper transfigured to gold will remain so for mere seconds before reverting._

_A short list of metals below is ordered from least valuable to most valuable._

_Aluminium, Iron, Nickle, Tin, Lead, Copper, Silver, Gold._

Harry frowned and looked at that list for a while before shaking his head and wondering what that made him think of. It had something to do with chemistry – the metal activity series! He wondered if there was a connection, and then continued reading.

_The only known exceptions to this rule are Leprechaun gold and the gold created from any metal using the legendary Philosopher's Stone. Leprechaun gold is true gold for as long as it lasts, which is usually less than four hours. After that time, it fades and disappears into nonentity. How Leprechauns conjure gold is unknown. The mechanism by which the Philosopher's Stone, a powerful artifact famously created by the Master Alchemist Nicolas Flamel, turns metals into gold is also unknown, except perhaps by Flamel himself, though as of yet he has not revealed it to anyone._

Harry felt an epiphany coming on. Nicolas Flamel, Nicolas Flamel, the stone –

Yesterday, Hagrid, and his strange slip ups. _Tha's between Professor Dumbledore 'n' Nicolas Flamel…The stone's got loads o' protection…_ Dumbledore's warning at the beginning of the year. Quirrell's strange pacing in front of the third floor corridor. The troll and Quirrell's faked faint.

The Philosopher's Stone was being secretly hidden in the school, under various protections including an effectively useless Cerberus, and someone – most likely Quirrell – was attempting to take it.

Well, he thought, now what?

**A/N:** Hehe, it was pointed out to me by dazzlar1 that I had made a mistake have Harry open the _Gryffindor_ entrance for Fred and George and then go to his common room, since I had placed Harry in Ravenclaw. Awesome catch, so thank you, and I've now hopefully made that correct.

I'm sorry for not updating for so long, but life happens. I can't guarantee a swift update, or any update, but if I get to the point where I'm sure that I won't continue the story, I will at least update my summary to reflect that and offer up the story for adoption. I'm having some inspiration right now, so I'll hopefully be able to write more.

The research that goes into writing this is pretty fun, if sometimes more extensive than I'd like. The bombing of Manassas is a Halo-cannon event, and I've been following Harry Potter and Halo timelines as well as I can. I do wish I had some of the newer Halo books…sigh…Halo Nation wiki will have to suffice.

Also, as of writing this, no less than 415 visitors have viewed this chapter. Thank you to all of you. It would mean a lot if more of you left a little token of your appreciation…like a review! Thanks to those who have reviewed so far, for any of the chapters, and those of you who have PM'd me with questions, comments, and encouragements. I won't be answering questions, though, since I'm not 100% sure how the plot will unravel, and I would hate to contradict myself.

3 LilaKatze


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